


Event Horizon

by KaylaNorail



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Berserker Thor, Dragons, Gen, Loki as the favoured son, Norse Bro Feels, Violence, but only sort of, lots and lots of talking, poorly written battle scenes, sort of based on a comic storyline, way too much talking for a freakin' berserker story honestly, well just one dragon actually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-12
Updated: 2016-10-12
Packaged: 2018-08-21 22:28:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 31,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8262680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaylaNorail/pseuds/KaylaNorail
Summary: Having Thor on the battlefield is dangerous both for his enemies and allies. There is, however, one person capable of stopping him—his brother, Loki.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I know that the whole "Berserker Thor" thing was all the rage (pun not intended) ages ago, but I actually _began writing it ages_ ago and only finished it now. And I remember someone on tumblr also remarking that it would be extra cool if in addition to Thor's condition affecting his behaviour it would also affect his status, and in turn make Loki take his place as the Official Favourite Prince of Asgard™.
> 
> That idea, I liked it and I ran with it. I tend to do that too often. Maybe I should finally come up with something myself. :P
> 
> And because I needed some actual setting and plot for the fic, I did a tiny bit of research, found some info from the comics and decided to play with it a little. So yeah, if anything, it's only loosely based on the comics I haven't even really read. Long live the secondary sources.
> 
> By the way, it's rather inconsistent with the concept of Berserkers from _Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.,_ but whatever. I started planning this thing before that episode even aired. :P Yup, I'm _that_ slow.
> 
> As per tradition, sorry for any mistakes I haven't managed to notice and fix yet, and which I will probably notice once the thing is already out there.
> 
> Without further ado, here's the fic.

His blood was boiling with fury and excitement, forcing his heart to beat faster, pushing him forwards, making him _unstoppable._

Thor swung his hammer once again, hitting the nearest soldier square in his chest, then quickly turned around and dealt another enemy a blow strong enough to knock his head off his shoulders. His eyes immediately spotted two more warriors. He hurled Mjolnir at them and, not bothering to watch them both fall, swiftly turned to another soldier, who was just about to stab him with a dagger. Thor caught his arm in an iron grip, breaking it like it was a mere twig; the soldier screamed, but his voice died abruptly when Thor clutched his head and snapped his neck.

He caught Mjolnir as it flew back to him and through the red mist swirling before his gleaming eyes he saw more men emerging into the hall. With a frenzied battle cry, he charged at them, smiting his opponents who fell like swatted flies, coloring his vision with even more red, so thick it almost blinded him. But he could still see the warriors, some of them fleeing in fear, some trying to subdue him, trying to take a hold on him—but that only fed the fire of his rage. He shook them off with ease and just _kept on going,_ shattering their armor and bones, and smashing their skulls, every blow mightier than the previous one—

“ _Thor!_ ”

The familiar voice cut through his frenzy like a knife and he stilled with his arm raised, about to bring the hammer down on yet another unfortunate soul; he hesitated just for a second, but it was enough for someone to jump in front of him and grasp his wrists before he could strike.

“Stop it, Thor. Calm down. Please, brother, _stop._ ”

The words dispersed the mist and felt like soothing summer drizzle against his burning skin. His breathing evened out, his heartbeat slowed down. The raging fire within him died down, leaving nothing but smoke and embers.

“Loki—” Thor rasped as his mind finally became clear. He tore his eyes from his brother’s pale face and looked around at the devastated hall littered with corpses of both Asgardian and enemy soldiers; his arms went slack in Loki’s hold, Mjolnir fell to the ground with a _thud._ “Loki, did I—”

“Yes, Thor, you did. Again.”

 

* * *

 

They couldn’t go home just yet. First, they needed to count the dead and tend to the living before embarking on the return journey. They were also supposed to question the captives and bring them to Asgard—only that there were no captives.

While they weren’t exactly certain, as they surveyed at the carnage it seemed safe to assume that no enemy had survived.

Thor did not stay to watch over the Asgardians taking care of the bloody mess. Loki found him outside, trying to wash himself in a nearby stream. Mjolnir, already clean, was resting ashore.

“Do not say anything,” Thor muttered, hearing Loki’s approaching footsteps.

“Is there really anything that needs to be said?” Loki sighed and sat just beside the hammer. He glanced at the weapon and then at the fort towering above them, huddled against a steep rocky slope. Fort Bjarnarbekkr, for that was its name, had been once an Asgardian outpost, later abandoned and left vacant for centuries due to having been deemed no longer necessary. Recently, however, it became a hideout of what turned out to be a group of hostile soldiers wearing unknown insignia.

And finally, it became a slaughterhouse.

“It is fascinating, actually,” Loki said after a moment of awkward silence.

“What is?” Thor grumbled before splashing more water over his face.

“That you can still wield it.”

Loki tensed as Thor glared at him, his eyes gleaming dangerously.

“Do not bring this up again,” Thor said in a grating voice before turning his attention back to getting rid of the blood coloring his hair red.

“Thor, you must consider—”

“I care not for what you are trying to imply!” Thor turned to face Loki again. “Mjolnir still deems me worthy. That’s all what counts.”

“Is it?” Loki stood up, folding his arms. “And what if one day Mjolnir will have enough of your recklessness? What if the next comrade you kill will be the last straw? What if Mjolnir _stops obeying you?_ ”

Thor laughed bitterly. “Oh yes, you _surely_ are the one who has the right to lecture me on that!”

Loki didn’t respond, only his brow twitched and his fingers tightened on his arms.

Suddenly realizing what he’d just said, Thor shook his head and stepped ashore. “I’m sorry, brother, I—”

“Do not be.” A rather insincere smile appeared on Loki’s face as he spoke, his eyes shifting back to the hammer. “You are right. Mjolnir is a tool for a warrior, not for me.”

“You _are_ a warrior, Loki.” Thor smiled back at him. “And a fine one, to boot.”

“A reluctant one,” Loki corrected. “You know me. I am a strategist and a trickster first. I do battle, but I do not quite enjoy it, not as much as you do. No wonder Mjolnir considers me unworthy.”

He was doing his best to sound neutral, if not downright lighthearted—as always when he’d been touching upon that subject—but Thor knew better. If Loki really didn’t care about the hammer, he wouldn’t have been trying to lift it so many times, thinking no one was watching, his face a picture of utter frustration after every failed attempt.

As if he was looking for some sort of validation. As if despite his many talents, despite being showered with praise all the time—for his remarkably sharp mind, truly exceptional knack for diplomacy and tactics, and refined magical abilities, which no one found disgraceful anymore, or at least no one dared to call them such—Loki could not be really satisfied with himself until Mjolnir acknowledged him too.

Like it had done so unexpectedly with Thor. The charm had been placed on the weapon _exactly_ to stop him from using it—and yet he succeeded at lifting it at the first try, letting everyone, including himself, hope that it meant his rage had finally been tamed, only to prove it false shortly thereafter and too many more times later. Their Mother had once suggested that maybe the hammer somehow knew it wasn’t really Thor who was doing all those regrettable things, and so it agreed to serve him. Thor has suggested back that if it was indeed the case, then maybe Mjolnir should protest and not serve that other person the berserker rage was turning him into. But the fact remained that it did not and, berserker or not, Thor could use it whenever he pleased.

“And in this respect, I can see why it has chosen to serve you.” Loki turned back to Thor. “The mightiest warrior of Asgard. The fiercest. The man who genuinely enjoys the thrill of battle—who _revels_ in it.” A shadow of concern crossed his face. “The man whose name alone is enough to spread fear amongst our enemies and allies alike.”

Thor sighed heavily. “I was trying to restrain myself, Loki, honestly—”

“Yes, and you failed! As you always do!”

“You know that I do not do that on purpose!”

“I know. And it does not make it any less frightening. Not at all.” Loki took a step towards him. “I worry for you, brother. You keep crossing the line. Every time it happens sooner than the last. And every time you seem to go further and further.”

“But every time you are with me.” Thor smiled and put his hand on Loki’s neck. “You are always here to bring me back.”

He expected Loki to return the smile, but instead saw deep sadness in his eyes.

“For now,” Loki said solemnly.

Thor gave a short nervous chuckle. “What do you mean, ‘for now’? Surely you do not plan to abandon me anytime soon, do you?” Thor’s smile faltered when Loki again averted his eyes. “Loki?”

“I do not—I _wish_ not to.” Loki’s voice was strained. “But I—brother, please, do not get me wrong… but I fear that one day I _will._ ” He took a deep breath before looking at Thor again. “I am afraid, Thor.”

Thor frowned. “Of what?”

Loki looked around and, although he didn’t spot anyone, lowered his voice. “Of _you,_ Thor. I fear that one day you will go too far—too far even for me to help you, and you will not be able to return on your own until it is too late.”

‘Too late’ sounded rather ambiguous. It could mean one of the two: that before his rage subsided he would either slaughter everyone not quick enough to flee from him—or get killed himself. Probably by his own allies, no less. He was the All-Father’s firstborn and that might’ve protected him so far, but only unofficially. Anyone could kill a berserker regardless of his status if he became too dangerous and impossible to contain or placate, and there would be no punishment for that, according to the law.

But, Thor realized, it could also mean another thing, one that Loki would not dare to explicitly state, but that surely must’ve crossed his mind at least once.

“It shall not happen.” Thor put his other hand over his heart. “I swear it, brother. And no matter what, no matter how far I go in my madness, I shall _never hurt you._ ”

A small shudder that ran through Loki’s frame only convinced Thor that he’d hit the nail on its head. But immediately after that Loki chuckled softly, shaking his head.

“As if that would be an easy task,” he said in a rather condescending manner. “Really, Thor, I think you would need more than your berserker rage to be able to do me any harm.”

Thor let out a laugh and patted Loki on the shoulder. “Right you are, Loki. I should not underestimate you.”

“Oh, certainly.” Loki glanced back at the fort. “And I should get back there. If not captives, maybe we’ll manage to find something else that might prove useful. And you… you still got some blood to scrub off.” He wrinkled his nose and said with obviously excessive disgust, “What would Mother say if she knew you managed to get yourself _that_ dirty?”

“Mother?” Thor scowled. “It is not _Mother’s_ words I am most worried about.”

 

* * *

 

“You did it _again!_ ” Odin boomed furiously, rising from his throne, his one eye fixed on his eldest son.

Standing before the All-Father with his shoulders hunched and eyes focused on his toes, Thor flinched. It wasn’t unusual for Odin to chastise him like this; in fact, it had become almost a tradition since the day he attacked that boy in the training grounds—and who knew how it would have ended had it not been for the collective effort of all the other trainees to drag the crazed prince away—since his affliction became clear and he started to fall out of favor of the court and the people, while Loki’s reputation gradually improved. Contempt for Loki soon turned into respect, while admiration for Thor turned into fear. Apparently when confronted with a berserker prince and a trickster prince, the Asgardians preferred the latter. Both could be unpredictable in their own ways, but at least Loki’s unpredictability had not yielded so many unnecessary deaths so far.

No matter, however, how used to it Thor was by now, getting scolded was still not a pleasant experience, and the absence of the other warriors and any other unnecessary witnesses was a small consolation.

“How many times must we tell you to _control yourself?_ ” Odin carried on, stepping down until he was almost at the eye-level with Thor. “How many times must you disregard our advice before you finally take it to heart? _How many of our soldiers must you kill before it stops?!_ ”

“I am trying,” Thor said, trying to sound firm, but it came out a bit sheepishly. “I swear I am. It is just—it is beyond me.” He forced himself to look up at his Father’s angry face. “I never seek it, it just _happens._ You cannot blame me for something I cannot help.”

“And this is _exactly_ your problem, Thor,” Odin growled. “You _think_ you cannot help it and use it as an excuse in order not to do anything!”

“Then _what_ can I do about it?!” Thor snapped. “Well? Tell me, Father, for I wish to know! Because I too have had _enough of this!_ I too am tired of _endangering my own people!_ ”

“Thor…” Loki, up until now standing quietly behind him, stepped closer and laid a hand on his shoulder. “You are not going to solve this by _getting angry,_ of all things.” He then looked at Odin. “But Father, I do think Thor is right, if only to some extent.”

“To what extent, Loki?” Odin asked. “You have witnessed it with your own eyes. He still cannot tame his rage; it is obvious he had disregarded what he has learned during his training, and just does as he pleases—”

“It’s not true!” Thor complained; he wanted to carry on, but Loki silenced him with a glare.

“Or maybe the training is not helping,” Loki said, releasing Thor and turning back to the All-Father. “We have both seen what he can do in the training grounds. We have both seen that he _is_ capable of keeping his mind clear during the practice these days—but this is a controlled environment. It will _never_ feel like real combat, real danger.”

Odin fell silent for a moment, pondering. “I admit, you are not wrong,” he said in the end. “But what else would you suggest? The current method is not perfect, yes, but can you think of anything better?”

“I—” Loki lowered his eyes. “I cannot. Not now.” He looked back up. “But I am still researching the subject and while I have not yet come up with anything solid yet, I may be able to find a solution. In fact, recently I stumbled upon a promising lead in a book on mind control magic and—”

Thor gritted his teeth; he wanted to protest, but knew there was no need—Odin would probably beat him to it. And Odin did, barking sharply, “ _No,_ Loki. I thought I have already talked you out of this. Even _Thor_ agrees with me. We shall not resort to such unlawful practices. And I do not want my son to be a mindless butcher, but I do not want him to be a _puppet_ either.”

“Neither do I, but—”

“I said—”

“—I am just saying—”

“Loki—”

“—that such magic influences—”

“ _Silence, boy!”_ The sound of the spear’s end hitting the polished floor echoed in the hall as Loki flinched, pausing abruptly with his mouth open, color draining from his face. “I want you to speak of it _no more._ Did I make myself clear?”

“Y-yes, Father. I apologize.” Loki bowed his head, composing himself in the blink of an eye, the paleness of his skin the only giveaway of his anxiety. The fact that he happened to be reprimanded much more rarely than Thor apparently did not make it any easier for him to bear—or, Thor suspected, might’ve made it even worse.

Odin sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “We are clearly going nowhere with this today… Now, better tell me what you have learned about those bandits.”

“They were not just some bandits,” said Loki. “They were soldiers. They were there to _kill,_ not rob. We have… not managed to interrogate any about whom they might have been serving, but this symbol was on their shields and armors.” He waved his hand and an image of a green winged serpent coiled around itself appeared in the air before him. “I do not know yet what symbol is this, but—Father?”

With his one eye wide open, Odin stared at Loki’s illusion, his grip on Gungnir first loosening and then tightening suddenly. He descended the dais, approaching the serpent slowly as if he feared it would bite him.

“I know this symbol,” he finally said in a hushed voice. “It is the crest of Fafnir of Nastrond.”

Loki gasped in surprise; Thor felt a chill run down his spine.

“No,” he blurted out. “It’s impossible. His legacy is no more.”

“And yet a part of it apparently managed to survive.” There was an undercurrent of dread in Odin’s voice.

“But it _could not have,_ ” Thor insisted. “You said it yourself. Nothing remained of it. _Nothing._ ”

“So I thought… up until now.” Odin was still looking at the serpent, although his gaze now seemed absent. Thor had little doubt that his Father was now in his mind going back to the early days of his reign, to one of the most devastating episodes of Asgard’s history. To the time shortly after Bor’s death, when Odin had to deal with a traitor who thought himself better suited for the throne than the deceased king’s son.

Fafnir, for that was the traitor’s name, was a nobleman from the north of the realm, a seasoned warrior, one of Bor’s generals, and a rumored sorcerer who nevertheless always made sure that the rumors would stay rumors and nothing more. After Bor had died, Fafnir resigned from his post and retreated to the north, declining to attend Odin’s coronation and ignoring his summons. Then, after a few weeks, he declared himself king and marched out of his castle, leading an army so enormous it was clear he must’ve started planning his rebellion and long before Bor’s death. He headed straight for the capital, ravaging everything in his path as a demonstration of his strength and slaughtering everyone who refused to support him or whom he thought of no use to his cause.

Odin did not wait for Fafnir to come. He led his own soldiers north to stop the traitor—and, in the end, he did, although defeating the usurper came with so much of a cost that it could hardly be called a victory. Not only many lives have been lost—both those of soldiers, often forced to fight their own brethren and friends who happened to stand on the other side of the conflict, but also those of innocent civilians slain by the rebellious army—but Fafnir and his allies left so much destruction in their wake that the once beautiful north of the Realm Eternal became a dead wasteland, and the fierce battles between two armies only scarred the land further. The bloodstained soil became barren, the rivers shallow and devoid of all life, the sky empty, save for several stray ravens or vultures that apparently even after centuries could smell death and carnage in the northern air. Nothing was left of the lands’ former beauty, not even their name, forgotten and replaced by a new one: Nastrond, the Shore of Corpses.

The war ended with the siege of Fafnir’s castle, where he’d been eventually forced to retreat. Nearly all of the remaining rebels were killed, and the all the captives were later executed, except one. Upon capturing Fafnir—seized in his study, while apparently attempting to cast some complicated dark spell, the exact nature of which he stubbornly refused to disclose—Odin ordered for him to be chained in the ruins of Castle Nastrond, in a spot where the traitor could look upon the land he had devastated.

“You wanted to be a king,” Odin told him then. “As you wish. And _this_ shall be your kingdom. You will watch over it for the rest of your days, king of Nastrond.”

Odin left Fafnir there to die and decreed for his family name and all his previous deeds of valor to be erased from Asgard’s history, banned the use of Fafnir’s crest—the winged serpent— had every object bearing it destroyed. No Asgardian had seen the symbol ever since.

Up to this day.

“Could it be a coincidence, perhaps?” Loki broke the silence. “Could someone just have adopted a similar symbol for themselves, with no association to Fafnir?”

Odin shook his head. “The symbols are identical. I admit, it is possible those people knew nothing about the crest’s history, but they had to learn about this symbol from someone. If they were indeed ignorant, that would make them victims of a poor joke or perhaps some spiteful plot. But if they _knew_ what really their symbol meant and yet decided to adopt it… That would be much more disturbing.”

“Is has been over three thousand years since the war,” Thor said. “Why would anyone choose to fight for a long-dead traitor now?”

“Who knows,” Odin murmured. “Either way, someone out there thought it a good idea to use that crest. We need to investigate this matter. Dispatch patrols, tell Heimdall to observe Asgard more often, maybe send spies to look for signs of unrest amongst the people.” He dispelled Loki’s illusion with a wave of his hand. “We might have neglected the north for too long.”

“Surely Heimdall would have noticed if something was going on in the north? Or anywhere else?” Thor asked.

“If there is a conspiracy, they may be using concealing enchantments. Besides, Heimdall has never been able to see all of Nastrond. Fafnir’s ancestors built Castle Nastrond on a large seidr plume, which interferes with Heimdall’s abilities. After the war we had soldiers stationed in the north to monitor the situation in case anything happened, but after decades of peace they were called back home. I did not want them to stay in those dead lands if that apparently wasn’t necessary.”

“Except it turns out they _should have stayed._ ” Thor folded his arms. “I cannot believe I’m saying that, but it seems you have made a _strategic mistake._ ”

Odin and Loki looked at him, both equally surprised.

“This sounds like something _I could say_ ,” Loki admitted quietly, a hint of amusement ringing in his voice.

Thor smirked at him. “Well, I _have_ been told to try to be more like you quite a few times…”

Odin, however, was not amused.

“We have yet to see if that has been indeed a mistake,” he said through his teeth. “If there is a threat, it might not have come directly from Nastrond this time. Now then…” He turned away from his sons “We will hold a council on this tomorrow. Loki, you are dismissed until then. Thor… come with me.”

He headed into the corridor on his left. Thor followed him, while Loki muttered “Meet me in my chambers when you are done,” and went the other way.

Odin led Thor all the way to one of his studies, several floors above the throne room. The All-Father kept silent for the whole time, breaking his silence only once, to tell Thor to close the door behind him when they finally arrived in the study. He then walked up to the writing desk and with a slight move of his hand he lit up the candles placed on it.

“Do you realize how grave your situation is?” he uttered after a moment, staring at the flames. His voice was now devoid of harshness and Thor could not help but notice a certain weariness lingering in it. It startled him a first; usually when talking about his matter, Odin would be more agitated. But then he took it as a good sign; maybe at least this once they could talk about it without shouting at each other.

“Of course I do, Father,” Thor said eventually, “and I honestly wish for it to stop. I do not want to be a threat to my own people.”

“That I do not doubt.” Odin turned to him, brows furrowing not in anger but rather concern. “But you seem not to think of another aspect.”

“What aspect?”

Odin took a step towards him. “You are a prince, Thor, and a berserker prince is much more of a problem than just a berserker soldier. You are a part of the royal family, you represent this realm whether you like it or not. Your reputation is a part of Asgard’s reputation as a whole.”

“Are you trying to motivate me further?” Thor wanted to sound neutral, although Odin’s words irritated him a little. “Because I think the fact that I unwittingly kill innocent people is motivating enough for me. I know our reputation is important, but I think people’s lives matter more—”

“No, Thor,” Odin cut in, “this is not motivation. This is a warning.”

Thor blinked. “A—a _warning?_ ”

“Asgard never had a berserker king, son. And this should not change.”

As it dawned on Thor what was lurking behind these words he felt as if he swallowed a block of ice. Being Odin’s eldest son, he had always taken his future coronation for granted. Everybody reminded him of it every so often since his early childhood, even before it became clear that he was a berserker. In all those years he never considered the possibility of not ascending to the throne, and certainly not because of his condition—he always assumed the problem would be solved by then.

But he was facing that possibility right now, and he just _could not believe it._

“You cannot mean—” he started, but he couldn’t get the rest of the sentence past his lips.

“Now, as I said, this is a warning—one I would like you to take seriously—but I have not decided anything yet,” Odin said in a calming tone. “Still, I need to consider the option. I am growing old, and you seem to be no closer to being cured than you were hundreds of years ago.”

“But if not me, does it mean… Loki?” The name suddenly tasted sour on Thor’s tongue, even as he tried to stifle the burning feeling of jealously rising in his chest. Thor could hardly blame his brother for his own shortcomings, but there was just something downright infuriating in how Loki seemed to profit from them, even if unwittingly, gaining everything Thor was losing, beginning with the people’s respect and ending with, apparently, the throne of Asgard.

Odin lowered his head. “There would not be much of a choice… but, in all honesty, I do _not_ wish for Loki to become the King of Asgard. While I do not think he would be ill-suited for the post, I have different plans concerning him, no less important—but him being Asgard’s ruler would complicate those matters greatly.”

Puzzled, Thor raised his eyebrows. “And… what plans are those?” Given that it concerned Loki, Thor suspected it was something about diplomacy, although he could not see how being king would interfere with performing diplomatic duties.

“I shall tell you when the right time comes. Now, however, I want you to focus on the present, Thor. I sincerely _want_ you to become king eventually, and my plans are only some of the reasons why I do, but I cannot in good conscience allow a berserker to rule Asgard.”

“And—and if I swear to…” Thor hesitated. “If I swear to never go into battle after my coronation?”

The All-Father frowned at him. “Son, I think we both know you would probably feel compelled break such an oath at some point. Besides, war could come knocking at your door without you seeking it out, and if it did, I would not expect you to just sit there doing nothing. You are a magnificent warrior and you possess a great strength, but you _need_ to learn how to control it appropriately.”

“Fine, so…” Thor ran his hand through his hair. “You just threatened me with losing my right to the throne if I don’t do something about my outbursts—but _how_ exactly is that knowledge supposed to help me? If anything, it only made me _more_ aggravated, to be honest.”

“Then seize that anger if you cannot yet quench it.” Odin grasped his arm and looked him straight in the eye. “Rein it in. Let it flow through you, but bend it to your will instead of letting it command you.”

 _Says the man who yells at me every time I do something wrong,_ Thor thought, but out loud he only said, “This is not as easy as you think. This is not mere anger, this is _berserker rage._ I tried controlling it already, Father, and, as you see, it did not work.”

“Oh, I do not think it easy. If it were, we would not be talking now. But maybe you should keep on trying. Maybe you will get better at it with time.” Odin’s features softened. “I want you to be cured, and while I worry for Asgard and our people, first and foremost I worry about _you,_ my boy, even if I do not always make it clear.”

“I… know,” Thor said halfheartedly. For the moment, he believed Odin, but had a feeling that he’d begin to doubt as soon as Odin scolded him next time.

 _Maybe I should just make sure there will be_ no _next time…_

“That is all I wanted to tell you for now.” Odin released him and took a step back. “You must be tired; I will not keep you for any longer. Unless you want to talk more.”

“No, I do not.” It wasn’t completely true. There were many things he wanted to talk about with his Father, but did not really feel up to it right now. Not so soon after yet another battle, not so soon after learning that his future as a king was uncertain.

“Then go. Have some rest, you need it. I will stay here for a while.” The All-Father turned back and walked behind the desk. “Oh, and Thor… Do not tell Loki. I do not want him to know yet.”

“As you wish, Father,” Thor replied and left the study. But instead of going away, he lingered outside for a moment, staring at the closed door, the revelations of the last few minutes weighing his heart down like stones.

 _What else will be taken from me and given to_ him?

Finally he turned around and headed for his chambers before remembering that Loki had wanted to talk to him. Fortunately, Thor did not have to alter his course much—Loki’s chambers were located on the same floor as his own—and soon he found himself standing before the door to Loki’s bedchamber. There he hesitated with his hand raised, unsure if he was in the mood for talking with Loki after what he’d just heard and considering just going straight to his own chambers to get some sleep, but in the end he knocked at the door.

“Enter!” Loki’s voice responded immediately.

Thor came into the room, finding Loki already out of armor and in casual garb, sitting cross-legged on his bed, leaning over a book. A considerable pile of others was stacked next to him. Not an unusual setting to see him in.

“How was it?” Loki asked, not even looking up from the book.

“Not as bad as I had expected.” Thor made his way to Loki’s bed and sat on the edge, in a safe distance from the books. “He did not shout at me, at least.”

“Oh?” Loki looked up. “Now that is interesting. Care to tell me more?”

“Eh… I’d rather not.” _Do not tell Loki,_ the memory of Odin’s voice repeated in his head, and before Loki could press on, Thor added quickly, “So, I presume you wanted to talk about something? Or did you just want someone to look at you while you read?” He managed a small smile.

Loki snapped the book shut and put it aside. “I wanted to tell you before we left for Fort Bjarnarbekkr, but there was no time—I think I found something that may be useful in finding a solution to your problem.”

Thor’s smile faded. “I hope you are _not_ talking about mind control magic again?”

“Far from it. I was reading on Asgardian and Vanir history, and I came across two more instances of berserkers who had been seemingly cured of their condition—”

“As those you discovered last time, and whose cures did not help me—”

“Yes, but these two appear to have been extreme cases, just like you, so it may prove to be a tad more effective.”

Thor’s heartbeat sped up a little, as it usually did when he heard of a potential new cure, but he quickly reminded himself that no cure had worked so far and that he should not get his hopes up too early. Still, no reminder could wash away his hopeful enthusiasm completely and slow his heart down to the normal pace; the prospect of being _free_ from that cursed rage was just too alluring to be resisted.

“Tell me more,” he said, leaning in. “What is that cure?”

“Well…” Loki clasped his hands in his lap. “Apparently, it’s shock.”

“…Shock?”

“Yes. Basically, something so terrible happened to them while they were under the influence of the berserker rage that it somehow made them unable to go berserk again.”

“I know what shock means,” Thor scoffed. “Are you suggesting that we… _scare_ the berserker out of me?”

“Not quite… You see, from what I have read, it would seem that this shock should be caused by something _you_ did.”

“Something I—oh, _splendid,_ ” he groaned, leaning back, whatever was left of his enthusiasm fading in the blink of an eye. “It’s not going to work.”

“And why do you think so?”

“Because I have already _done_ terrible things. I have killed _our soldiers._ I have—” His gaze fell. “I have hurt _Sif._ ”

He clenched his teeth. The memory of Mjolnir coming crashing down like thunder itself and shattering Sif’s arm was still fresh in his mind, even if a little hazy; her scream sometimes still haunted him in his dreams. Several months had passed since then and Thor could still hardly bring himself to look at her, let alone talk to her, even though Sif made it clear that she harbored no grudge.

She even said she would not mind fighting alongside Thor once again in the future, when she finally learned how to fight with just one arm.

“If _that_ was not enough to cure me,” Thor uttered, his eyes downcast, “then I do not know what would. I mean—could I possibly get even _worse_ than this?”

“In theory… you could.”

Thor looked up as Loki opened one of the books from the pile. “Do I even want to know _what_ that would entail?”

“I don’t know. Do you?”

Thor did not respond at first, preferring not even to _think_ of something worse than killing his allies and crippling his friends, but something was telling him that maybe he _should_ think of it, if only to be aware what he could still become—what he had to _stop_ himself from becoming.

“Very well. Tell me.”

“As you wish…” Loki flicked through the book and found the relevant page. “Belgir Bjarkison of Vanaheim, the first one I found. Killed his own father in battle and—”

Thor felt his body go rigid with dread and revulsion. “K-killed his _father?!_ ” he choked out. “Are you mad? Do you want me to kill Father so I can be cured?”

“Of course not.” Loki raised his hand in a placating manner. “This is but an example of something worse than what you have done so far.”

“That I do not deny, but—I cannot _kill Father!_ ”

“ _I know_. Anyway, Belgir decided never to fight again afterwards, left his homeland, and retreated to a small village in the Jagged Mountains. The village was later raided by bandits, though, and he helped to fight them off without going berserk, so…”

“If it was indeed slaying his father that ‘helped’ him, then the medicine was worse than the illness in my opinion,” Thor huffed. “What about the other one?”

Loki reached for another book. “Valtyr Unnarson of Asgard, also called ‘the Bloodwolf.’ Retired from the Asgardian army because he thought himself too dangerous, but returned when king Buri demanded it from him when the Wildfire War broke out. During one of the battles, he killed his closest friend, Mugar Askarson. He despaired greatly upon realizing this and wanted to withdraw, but the generals convinced him to stay—”

“Let me guess, not once was he overcome by the berserker rage afterwards,” Thor cut in, his voice grim. “This is not helping, brother. I want to be cured so that I _don’t_ kill anyone dear to me, and I see no point in achieving that by doing _exactly_ what I hope to avoid doing!”

“I agree with you.” Loki closed the book and, to Thor’s surprise, grinned. “Fortunately, it does not have to come down to this.”

Carefully and somewhat shyly, hope crept back into Thor’s heart. “You found another solution?”

“Indeed. And _now_ I would like to talk about mind control magic.”

Disappointed yet again, Thor simply spat, “ _No._ ”

“Brother, just—just let me explain. It is not, as Father put it, about turning you into a puppet.”

“Is not mind control _supposed_ to do just that?”

“Well, yes. But I am not talking about _pure_ mind control magic this time.” Loki took another book from the pile. “Look, here. According to this, such magic tends to affect specific parts of your mind, usually those associated with the will. I just thought that we may use a similar approach: use a modified template, devise a spell that would target the part of your mind responsible for your uncontrolled rage and _suppress it._ But nothing else would be affected. You would remain yourself, free to do whatever you want, under the influence of no one.”

While he didn’t want to be let down for the third time on the same evening, Thor couldn’t help but feel hopeful once again. “Do you—do you really think it could work?”

Loki frowned. “And this is the tricky part. I have _no idea._ I do not think anyone has ever tried this. Anything at least remotely close to this I can think of are soothing spells—”

“But they have not worked so far—”

“Yes, but they are considered healing magic and have more to do with your body rather than mind. They’re based on vastly different templates and require different techniques than mind control. That is why I have misgivings: this would be an experiment. An _entirely new thing._ ”

“Apart from this spell not working… are there any potential risks we would be taking?” Thor asked, eyeing the upside-down pages before him and suspecting they probably wouldn’t make much sense to him even if they were right side up, with all those complicated formulas, diagrams, and vocabulary, so characteristic of books on magic and so unfriendly to anyone who—like Thor—had little to no prior knowledge on the subject.

“Probably nothing worse than you going on a rampage, as usual,” said Loki.

“ _Probably._ ”

Loki shrugged. “I told you it would be an experiment, did I not? But in all honesty, I think the probability of the spell backfiring is so low it’s basically nonexistent. An utter failure is much more likely than your condition worsening.”

“It actually does sound… convincing,” Thor admitted; hope was back in his heart, devoid of all its previous shyness, and bleeding into his eyes and lips until he was smiling. “If there is really not much we would be risking, compared to what usually happens…”

“So, do you agree?” Loki looked at him, his expression mirroring Thor’s.

“We would still be breaking the law.”

“Oh, merely skirting it. I do not want to force you to do something against your will with that spell after all.”

“But we would still need to convince Father—”

Loki waved his hand dismissively. “Forget Father. We do not need him or his approval. I will take care of everything.”

“We do not—then _why_ were you trying to convince him?”

“Because he purportedly is one of the wisest men in the realm and could lend us a hand—only that he does not even want to _listen to me_ when I say the words ‘mind control.’” Loki snorted derisively. “We will manage without him.”

“If Heimdall tells him—”

“I can hide us both from him if I want to.”

That gave Thor a pause. “You can do _what?_ ”

“You heard me. I am actually doing it now, in fact.”

“But—I thought it was nearly impossible for anyone to hide from Heimdall—”

“Not nearly enough.” Loki smirked. “Trust me when I say Heimdall cannot spy on us when I do not allow him.”

“And what if Mother—wait. Can _Mother_ help us in either devising that spell or convincing Father?”

“Uh…” Loki’s gaze drifted sideways. “I—I decided not to pursue her help.”

“Why?” Furrowing his brow, Thor stared at Loki in disbelief. “She is an excellent mage, why have you not consulted her on this?”

“Because Mother dislikes mind control magic as much as Father does, only talks about it in more delicate terms. I… I actually spoke to her about the possibility of using modified spells, before I had a clear idea of what exactly to do, but she still had qualms about it.”

“I am no longer sure if I think it a good idea if even Mother has her doubts…”

“Mother is not infallible!” Loki snapped, and then, as if he said something offensive and felt the need to correct it, cleared his throat and added, “Of course, I respect her authority as my Mother, Queen, and teacher, and I agree with her on most of things, but… _this_ is something we happen to disagree on. And I will _not_ let that difference of opinion stop me from at least _trying_ to help you, brother.” He reached out to Thor. “So don’t back out. Please. Let me just _try._ Let us show both Father and Mother that we can manage on our own.”

Thor tilted his head. “Is that arrogance speaking through you, Loki?”

“No. Just determination.”

Thor held Loki’s gaze for a moment, pondering. There was no way of knowing if Loki’s idea would work… but there was also no way of knowing it would not. And even if the King and the Queen disapproved of it, they would surely change their mind if that method ended up curing him—and if it did not, they would not even know about it. He and Loki did not have to tell them if the spell failed.

And maybe _it would not fail._

Smile again lightened up his features as he firmly grasped Loki’s hand.

“Fine. Let us do it.”

 

* * *

 

“—enough, please, look at me, Thor, it’s me, _come back to me,_ listen to me _—_ “

As soon as he recognized the words, Thor knew that Loki’s spell had failed.

It had taken them weeks to arrive there. Weeks of research and preparations, of trying out the combinations, of keeping secrets and hiding, of sleepless nights, headaches, and other unpleasant side effects until they deemed their quest complete and then waited for a chance to give the spell a real test.

The chance came with rumors of more rogue soldiers sporting Fafnir’s serpent symbol having been sighted north of the city of Asgard, At first, Odin was reluctant to let Thor join one of the investigating patrols, but Loki insisted that they both go—and when they finally found their foes, Loki cast the spell just before the fight broke out and all was supposed to go well.

But it did _not_ —and while the blurred memories of what he had done were already pouring into Thor’s mind, he did not need them to notice that, despite Loki’s assurances, something had gone even _more wrong_ than usual.

It was not that rare for him to come around and find himself being held back by his allies—either those naïve enough to think he could be stopped by force, or those brave enough to slow him down and protect others before Loki could get to him and handle the situation. It was also quite normal for Loki to look and sound nervous or sometimes even scared when he was bringing his brother back to normal.

It was _not_ normal, however, for Loki’s eyes to be so wide with fear and glistening with tears, or for his voice to sound so _desperate._

“Look at me,” Loki continued to plead, his trembling hands on Thor’s shoulders, “Thor, please, stop it, it’s enough—”

“Loki—” Thor’s voice was hoarse. “Loki, what—”

Loki gasped at Thor’s words and drew back, falling silent; he nodded at the other soldiers, indicating for them to let Thor go. As soon as they did, Loki backed away, eyeing his brother carefully. Staring back at him, Thor was beginning to feel afraid himself; nothing, not even the sight of all the broken bodies strewn across the glade they were standing in the middle of, unsettled him more than the way Loki looked at him.

“Loki, why—why are you like this?” he asked, keeping his voice as calm as he could. “What have I done?”

 _What have I done that could possibly be_ worse _than before?_

Regaining some of his composure, Loki glanced at the soldiers. “Leave us,” he commanded sharply. “Tend to the wounded, see if any enemies survived. I need to speak with my brother.”

He then turned around and headed towards the trees; Thor followed him without a word, keeping his distance. Just a few steps into the forest Loki stopped abruptly and leaned against a tree trunk, while Thor decided to sit on a large rock just the opposite of him.

“What is it?” Thor’s fears grew with every second of not knowing. “Tell me, what happened? How…” He paused, swallowing hard. “How many of our men have I killed?”

His worst count so far had been about fifty in a single fight, a much larger one than this, during which he called down lightning while in the berserker rage, for the first and the last time to date—and that was not counting the enemy casualties. Thor could hardly imagine having done something even more disastrous, but then he noticed no scars upon the soil and the trees around indicating such an event. That, however, did not console him in the slightest, instead leaving him to dread what _other_ atrocity he must’ve committed.

“You… injured a few, but they will live,” Loki said, avoiding Thor’s eyes; his voice was shaky and he folded his arms. “You killed no one on our side this time.”

“Then what—”

“Do you remember what you have promised me last time we fought? At Fort Bjarnarbekkr? After the skirmish was over?”

“The fort—” Thor strained his memory. “We talked… and I told you that—” His blood ran cold as the realization hit him. “ _Norns!_ ” He jumped to his feet, startling Loki, who immediately put his hands in front of him in a defensive manner. Thor froze with his hand reaching out awkwardly. “Did I—Loki, are you hurt?”

“I am not hurt,” Loki said, lowering his hands. “Maybe I should have said: you _tried_ to break your promise. Fortunately, you did not actually manage to, but… it was close, Thor. _Very_ close.”

Thor allowed himself to relax, if only a little. “But… Loki, explain this to me. What exactly happened?”

“You attacked me.”

Thor knew it was coming; their conversation so far had made it clear already. Still, to hear those words from Loki… Thor felt a sharp ache in his chest, which had nothing to do with exhaustion or battle wounds. He tried to summon his memories of the recent fight, but they were so fragmented and unclear he couldn’t make much of them.

“I do not remember this,” he said. “Maybe—maybe it was just an accident? Maybe I meant the hit, or whatever it was what I did, for someone close to you and you just happened to get in the way or—”

“No, brother.” Loki finally decided to look into Thor’s eyes, only to find it too hard a task after merely a second. “I know what I saw. You swung Mjolnir _right at me,_ and when you missed you _threw it at me._ I barely managed to dodge and get away from you. _I_ was your target. _I_ was the one you tried to strike.”

Feeling like submerged in ice cold water, Thor tentatively reached out again, and when Loki didn’t react defensively, put his hand on Loki’s shoulder. “I—I am sorry, Loki—I did not mean to, I—”

“Oh, stop apologizing.” Loki smiled at him. “You don’t have to. That was not your fault.”

“Then whose fault it was? Why did it happen, why now, why did I— _oh._ ” Thor’s eyes widened as an idea came to him. “Loki, your spell—maybe it was—”

“No,” Loki snapped, his smile vanishing. He shook Thor’s hand off and began to pace. “The spell did not work as it should, but I just could not have made such a great error and _worsen_ you condition instead of alleviating it.”

“Or maybe you just do not want to admit you made that error.”

When Loki stopped dead in his tracks and glared at him with a mixture of hurt and anger in his eyes, Thor regretted saying that instantly.

“I knew what I was doing!” Loki shouted and then carried on in a slightly more civil tone. “I spent _weeks_ developing that spell, and I was careful. I think I would have noticed if I made such a grave mistake before casting the spell on you. I was _almost_ sure everything would go well, and who knows, maybe it would if not…” He trailed off and sighed, rubbing his face with his hand.

“If not… what?”

“I—I admit, I _did_ think that maybe it was the spell’s fault and…” Loki breathed deeply. “I tried to remove it once our men got you… but the spell was no longer there, Thor, and I did not cancel it.”

“So, did it… expire? Can a spell even _do_ that?”

“All of them do when there is not enough magic to sustain it. But that is beside the point. The spell should have lasted for the duration of the battle and beyond… and yet nothing remained of it after the fight was over. And we did not fight long.”

Thor scratched his temple, trying to think of an explanation, and to ignore the increasing dread eating at him. “Then maybe… Do you think they might have brought their own mage who cancelled the spell or—”

“They would have to lay their hands on your head, and I bet you did not let them do that. No, Thor, I think—I think your rage was just too much. That it _burned_ through the spell and dispersed it.”

“Wh- _what?_ But—well, that means we have to start over, use more magic… or something… right?”

As Loki drew his lips into a tight line, Thor guessed he wouldn’t like the answer, but he nevertheless allowed himself to hope—only for his heart to sink as Loki shook his head.

“It already was a quite powerful spell,” Loki whispered, walking up to Thor, “and judging from what just happened, we would need one even _more_ powerful to keep you relatively calm for the whole battle. There is a serious possibility that your mind would simply be unable to handle it—either the sheer amount of magical energy itself would be too much, or the clash between it and your rage could break you. We cannot risk that, brother.”

“We are _already_ risking the lives of countless others—”

“You said you don’t want to solve the situation by doing the very thing you want to prevent,” Loki growled, his brow creasing. “And _neither do I._ ”

“But—” Thor paused, words stuck in his throat. “But then—there _must_ be a way to stop it! Especially now, when—when I—Loki, tell me something can be done!” He noticed that now _he_ was the one sounding desperate, but found himself unable to do anything about that; the very thing that made him seemingly invincible was now making him feel absolutely _helpless._ “You are clever. You will find a way—if not you, then who else? You need to help me, brother. Please, you need to _help us both._ ”

Loki’s expression softened. “Of course I will try to help you, Thor,” he said, with a slight tremor in his voice. “But this is all I can promise you: _try._ I shall not rest or give up until I find a cure, but I cannot say I _will_ find it.”

“Yes, you will,” Thor insisted. “I believe you can do it. _You will._ ”

“If only your faith in me was enough…” A wry smile tugged at the corner of Loki’s mouth. “But let us waste no more time and get back to our men.” He turned on his heel, but did not make a single step before facing Thor again. “I almost forgot—we _cannot_ let Father and Mother know you tried to hurt me.”

“What? But they will know anyway, either the soldiers will tell them, or Heimdall will—”

“I’d wager the soldiers were too busy fighting for their lives to notice. And it is possible Heimdall did not see anything. He might have not even been looking upon us as we fought. If he did see…” Loki grimaced. “Well, if he did see it, then there will not be much point in trying to keep it secret. But if he did not— _not a word._ ”

“Should we not rather tell them? This is a serious matter after all—”

Loki raised his hand. “Thor, Father is already being harsh on you. Do you really want this to get worse by revealing to him that you tried to kill me?”

Thor shivered, stunned by both the bluntness of Loki’s words and his argument. All of the sudden he heard his Father’s warning once again, as if he was standing right beside him right now, and imagined all too easily Odin stripping him of the right to the throne and naming Loki his successor immediately upon hearing about the incident, even at the cost of abandoning the earlier plans, no matter their importance.

His stomach churned at the thought.

“You are right,” Thor said firmly. “Telling Father is out of the question… but what about Mother?”

“This is not something she would hide from him if she knew,” Loki replied. “It must stay between us, brother, and we have to handle it ourselves.”

“I still think somebody should know—”

“And what would that achieve? Father and Mother are already doing what they can to help you. Learning about what you almost did would only upset them, and nobody needs that. We can manage on our own, Thor.” Unexpectedly, he smirked. “At least _I_ can. If that was the best your berserker self could do, then I suppose I am in little danger.”

As much as Thor wanted to believe Loki’s words, there was too much discrepancy between this mischievous look gracing his face now and that raw fear written all over it just moments before; the transition had been simply too quick to be real. But if Loki chose confidence and lightheartedness—even the feigned kind—over worrying, Thor could at least try to do the same.

“Oh, surely,” he said, forcing himself to smirk back. “Just promise to go gentle on me should it ever happen again.”

Taken aback by Thor’s remark, Loki almost choked on a laugh. “Well—I cannot promise anything. Now come, let us see if we can salvage anything of interest to appease Father.”

 

* * *

 

Thor soon found out that Loki’s prediction had been correct. Not one soldier seemed to have noticed him attack Loki—or at least not one soldier brought it up, and Thor didn’t dare to ask them. However, it did little to ease Thor’s anxiety, which accompanied him on their want home; he still dreaded to see Odin after what had happened and learn that Heimdall _had_ seen it all and reported everything to his King. And even if the Gatekeeper saw nothing, Thor was sure he would be chastised again for yet another outburst of rage anyway, especially that they learned absolutely nothing more about the soldiers of the winged serpent—as it had become a habit recently, they found no enemy survivors on the battlefield.

So when they finally arrived into the city at sundown three later and were told that the All-Father wished to speak with his sons immediately, Thor feared the worst. Loki, on the other hand, remained perfectly calm, if only on the outside.

“Worry not,” he told Thor. “It will not be worse than usual.”

But the grim scenario was already unfolding in Thor’s head and he couldn’t banish it, his mind so clouded with gloom he followed his brother blindly, not even realizing that they were not heading to the throne room as he had expected, until he almost slammed into Loki who all of the sudden stopped and faced him.

“Are you alright?” Loki asked. “You seem… absent.”

“I—I probably was for a while now…” Thor said, coming back to reality and noticing surroundings. “Loki—what are we doing here?”

Loki glanced behind him at the door leading to the King and Queen’s private chambers. “Why, seeing Father. We have been told to come, remember?”

“I thought—I must have missed that detail…”

“And I can see why. Now, don’t be so grim.” Loki patted Thor’s shoulder and gave him an encouraging smile. “I am telling you, there is nothing to worry about than—”

“But what if he _knows?_ ” Thor whispered.

“Stop worrying in advance,” Loki said in an equally hushed voice. “Especially out loud and just under Father’s nose. If anything, I will handle this.”

They went through the door into a spacious room in the center of which was a burning hearth surrounded by cushioned benches; one of them was occupied by Odin and Frigga. The Queen jumped to her feet as soon as her sons crossed the threshold and rushed to greet them with hugs, but the All-Father rose from his seat slowly, leaning on Gungnir for support, and did not make a single step. He seemed very tired, even ill, and for a moment Thor forgot about his worries, concerned instead with his Father’s state.

“Father—are you unwell?” he asked as soon as Frigga released him from her embrace.

“Not quite.” Even Odin’s voice lacked its usual strength. “Although… I suppose you could say that.” Suddenly, he swayed and both his sons ran to him and caught him. “Oh, silly boys—it’s nothing. I could manage… but since you are already here, you may as well help the old man sit back down.”

“Is this an illness?” Loki inquired as they complied with Odin’s wish. “Or a curse of some kind?”

“More like a blessing. Or rather the price I have to pay for it.”

Thor was getting slightly annoyed. “Could you be less cryptic, Father?”

“It is the Odinsleep,” Frigga spoke instead, taking a seat by her husband and putting her hand on his shoulder. “It has been drawing near for a while now, but your Father wanted to… postpone it as much as he could.”

“Odinsleep?” Thor raised his brows in surprise. “But is it not too soon? And—and you never have been so exhausted before—”

“You have never _seen me_ so exhausted,” Odin corrected. “As for the timing, well… I grow old. It only figures I will have to enter the Sleep more and more often as I age. And delaying it has its… consequences.”

“Then why did you want to delay it?”

“I wanted to be awake long enough to see my sons come home.” A smile appeared on Odin’s face, but it quickly faded. “I also wished to talk about the state of affairs and your latest quest, but… I do not think I can manage. I suppose it would drain me too much.”

“It can wait,” Loki assured. “Nothing too unusual happened, and, sadly, we have not gathered much useful information—”

“Nothing too unusual?” Odin glared at him. “Me and Heimdall beg to differ.”

 _Oh Norns._ Thor felt cold claws of fear clutch his rapidly beating heart. His breathing quickened and he clenched his fists, trying to keep still, though he didn’t even know why that was supposed help him now. _They know, Heimdall told him, Father_ knows—

“I had him check on you from time to time while you were away,” Odin continued. “But one day… One day he lost sight of you.”

Thor’s eyes widened. “He— _what?_ ” He immediately glanced at the first and most obvious suspect—but Loki appeared to be just as surprised as Thor was, if not more. Of course, he might’ve been pretending if it had _indeed_ been his doing, but… Thor was already having second thoughts. Why would Loki keep him in the dark for several days if it indeed had been him who hid them from Heimdall? That made no sense.

“Lost… sight?” Loki repeated, sounding slightly alarmed.

“You heard that right,” said Odin. “When he tried to see how you were faring, he could not find you for about an hour, and when he finally saw you, you seemed to be resting after a battle.”

“We—we encountered enemy forces, yes,” Loki confirmed; he scratched his chin and lowered his eyes as if searching for clues on the floor. “Again, they bore Fafnir’s crest. But I do not recall witnessing anything out of ordinary, and our soldiers also did not mention anything…”

“Were there any mages among your foes?” Odin asked.

“Not that we have noticed, no.”

“And of course there is no one to interrogate.” The All-Father looked at Thor, disappointment and a certain sadness ringing in his voice instead of the usual anger and frustration. “That much Heimdall managed to see. But, as I said, I… I do not feel well enough for this conversation right now.” He tried to get up on his own, but Thor helped him to his feet as soon as he noticed his Father’s intention. Odin huffed at that at first, but followed it with a smile. “Thank you, son. I would not have needed that, but—”

“That is debatable, dear,” Frigga cut in with a smirk, also rising and taking her husband’s arm. Odin only sighed at this, although he was still smiling.

“I wish I could delay this for some more time,” he complained, and a moment later his smile faded. “It is not a good time for me to leave you.”

“Do not worry, Father,” Thor said, hand splayed on his chest. “I assure you we will not make things worse while you are asleep.” He glanced at Loki, expecting him to add something, but he still seemed deep in thought, so he looked back at Odin. “And Mother will surely do her duty as fine as always.”

Frigga smiled and gave him a small nod in thanks for the compliment. Ever since Thor could remember, Frigga had taken up her husband’s spear every time he fell into the Odinsleep, and during those times proved herself to be no worse ruler than him, although she had remarked upon numerous occasions that she much preferred to just stand by the All-Father’s side rather than to sit on throne.

Odin, on the other hand, looked away, brow twitching. “Well… of course. And I shall not keep you here any longer. You may go and rest, Thor. Mother and Loki will see me to my bedchamber.”

Loki finally looked up, roused from his thoughts. “Hm?”

“Come with us, please,” Odin said. “I could use another shoulder to lean on… just in case.”

The request and the tone of Odin’s voice seemed strangely suspicious, and judging by Loki’s slightly confused expression, he thought so too.

“I think Loki may need rest more than I,” Thor suggested. “Let him leave, I’ll gladly come instead—”

“ _No,_ Thor.” Odin’s voice grew a little sharper momentarily. “I… appreciate that you care so much for your brother’s well-being, but I think it better for you to retire first. Worry not for him, I shall not bother him for too long.”

Unease pinched at Thor’s heart as his suspicions were confirmed—Odin did not want Thor to go so he could rest, he just wanted him to _leave_ for some reason. Thor was about to ask why he just wouldn’t say it to his face, but decided not to engage in what would probably end up as an argument; in the same second, Loki stepped forwards.

“As you wish, Father…” He took Odin’s other arm before turning to Thor, smiling. “Go, brother. I am not tired enough to fail at such a simple task.”

But he still managed to give Thor a look that conveyed his own discomfort with the situation. Odin rarely spoke with his youngest in private, and Loki always seemed to dread those conversations, especially knowing that when it was Thor the All-Father talked to behind closed doors they were usually speaking of Thor’s failures and misdeeds.

Suddenly it occurred to Thor that this time Loki had quite a serious reason to fear the oncoming talk. But instead of letting any of them know, he smiled back at his brother, hoping it looked sincere and reassuring enough.

“If you say so, I will not argue,” he said. “Good night to you all, then.”

He bowed his head and made his way to the door, not once turning back. Once he was outside, his footsteps quickened, and he allowed himself to discard the uncomfortable peaceful mask, worry contorting his face.

 _Father suspects him,_ he thought as he walked through the corridors and ignored the few people he passed by. _He suspects that Loki is hiding something. He may think it was Loki who concealed us from Heimdall’s view, even if Loki did not, and if he presses long enough… If he learns about the spell…_

He shuddered at the thought. If it came to light, they would surely be punished—both of them. Even if, as Loki had insisted, it had not been a typical form of mind control magic, it was derived from it and could still be considered unlawful. And while it had been Loki’s idea, Thor had consented to the conspiracy, making him Loki’s partner in crime. He was not sure what exactly they would face for their transgression, but he doubted Odin would pardon them just because they were his children.

But Thor did not fear official punishment as much as he was afraid of Odin’s personal reprimand. Afraid of looking into Odin’s eye and seeing more disappointment, made even worse by the fact that this time it would not be because of his failure, but because of his willful disobedience.

Burning shame flooded Thor’s chest. He should have thought of it earlier, not just when he was facing potential retribution for their secretive plot. He had betrayed his Father’s trust. They both have. And for what? For a spell that hadn’t even worked.

Soon Thor made it to his chamber, but he wasn’t going to stay there for long; he couldn’t rest in such a foul mood anyway. Instead, he left Mjolnir on the floor, quickly changed into fresh clothes and hurried off to Loki’s rooms. He wasn’t surprised to end up standing before a closed door—he’d figured Loki most likely would be still talking to Odin—but when his wait stretched into what must have been at least an hour, he grew even more concerned.

He was beginning to think that Loki might not come, that Odin might’ve sent him to the dungeons already, when he heard footsteps coming from around the corner and soon Loki came into view. Thor breathed a sigh of relief at the sight, but his heart sank when he noticed the pallor of his face and saw sweat glisten on his forehead.

“Thor!” Loki exclaimed, stopping in his tracks. “What are you doing here? Father told you to rest—”

“We both know that was not what he meant,” Thor said. “I was worried. I wanted to talk. And I need to know if you—if _we_ are in any trouble.”

Loki hesitated, glancing sideways as if checking for any unwanted audience, and finally approached the door to unlock it.

When they both came into the room, Thor opened his mouth to speak, but Loki shushed him and made a beeline for the bed. He slumped down onto the fur covers, ran his hand through his hair and leaned back to lie down.

“Loki, what—”

“Wait.” Loki closed his eyes and his brows furrowed in concentration as he made a quick but complicated gesture in the air before his arms fell limp to his sides. For a second Thor thought that Loki might’ve passed out, but then he heard him murmur, “There. I concealed us. Now we may talk.”

Calmed down a little, Thor sat down next to Loki. “Then I take it Father doesn’t know everything?”

“Define everything.” Loki covered his eyes with his arm.

“Your spell.”

“Ah.” Loki sounded surprised. “No, he does not. Why did you think he would?”

“I just thought… that maybe he had figured it out somehow. That he knew you are hiding something from him. Speaking of which… It was not you who concealed us during our last battle, was it?”

“Yes and no.”

Thor frowned at him. “How so?”

“I did hide us briefly when I cast my spell on you, just in case. But that was it. There must have been some other magic at work, and it was not mine.”

“Did Father suspect you, though?”

“If he did, he didn’t tell me.”

“Then… what did you talk of? And why did Father want me to leave?”

Sighing heavily, Loki sat up, rested his elbows on his knees and hid his face in his hands.

“I… I should not be telling you this,” he muttered. “And I will not. Not _everything,_ ” he added before Thor had a chance to protest.

“So what _will_ you tell me?” Thor asked.

Loki sighed again and looked up, but instead of facing Thor he just stared at the wall. “Heimdall saw some… disturbing things,” he said quietly. “We may soon find ourselves at war.”

“War?!” Thor’s back straightened as the word ignited his veins. “With whom? And why Father did not want me to know?”

“Well, guess why,” Loki hissed, finally turning his head to Thor, a faint glimmer of anger shining in his eyes. “Let us say an enemy appears, proceeds to slaughter our people, threatens to raze the whole realm to the ground—what would you do?”

“Fight, of course!” Thor replied without hesitation. “I would not stand and watch while—”

“And here is your why,” Loki cut in. “You would _fight._ And what happens when you fight?”

Thor paused, but then responded with ire in his voice, “So _what?_ I have fought in countless lesser battles despite my condition. I should not forgo going to war because of that! Even Father said he would not expect me to abstain from fighting if there was a need—”

“Just because he would not expect that does not mean he would actually _want you to fight!_ ” Loki almost shouted, jumping to his feet. “So answer me now: knowing how dangerous you can be, and knowing that Father acknowledges it and would _forbid you_ to join our warriors on the battlefield, would you still do it? Would you go against Father’s wishes, take up that hammer of yours and go to battle?”

Thor gaped at him incredulously; his mind dismantled the question and diverted his attention to a part that particularly stood out and stung painfully. “Father… Father _forbade me_ to fight?” he asked in the end.

“Not exactly. He believes you would not listen to him anyway, and it seems he is _right_ about that. No, he just thought it would be better if we kept you out of it somehow. Not telling you anything and finding you something else to do so you wouldn’t find out was one way of doing it…” Loki scowled. “But as you can see, I went against my better judgment and ruined it, and I am regretting it already.”

“Why now, of all times?” Now Thor stood up too, unable to sit in place, and started walking in circles. “If he has risked the lives of our soldiers in small battles and scouting missions by letting me join them; now the stakes are higher and suddenly he wants me to stand aside?!”

“And suddenly _you_ are so willing to sacrifice others.” The accusation in Loki’s voice was clear and sharp. Thor turned to face him, fists clenching.

“I do not want to sacrifice _anyone,_ ” he spat. “But if I can help defend our people by fighting—”

“Or you may _kill_ your people by fighting.” Loki crossed his arms. “Look, this may sound cruel, but you certainly pose a lesser risk to our army in a skirmish of little significance than in a larger battle. Maybe that was Father’s reason. Or maybe he simply thinks it’s time for you to lay your weapon down. But you still have not answered my question. Would you fight? Would you disobey Father?”

At first Thor wanted to say that _yes, he would,_ because protecting Asgard and its people was more important than Odin’s wishes—but then he recalled his remorse over having disobeyed him once already. _No—no, this is not the same,_ he thought, _this is not about forbidden arts, this is about my duty as the prince, as the defender of this realm… about putting my curse to actual use, even if it costs us the lives of our men… but saves others…_

“I would,” he said eventually, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I could not sit idly while others were laying down their lives for our realm.” He looked up back at Loki. “It would pain me to do so, but if it comes to choosing between obeying Father’s commands and aiding our people, I cannot put the former above the latter.”

Shaking his head in disapproval, Loki made a step forwards. “Thor, you should not—”

“ _You_ of all people do not have the right to admonish me on that,” Thor shot back. “You disobeyed Father first, and dragged me down with you.”

He realized how harsh his words were when Loki went rigid and briefly looked as if he had been struck—but then he frowned at Thor and said through clenched teeth, “I was trying to _help._ ”

“I know. But you did not. In the end, we were both mistaken.”

Loki’s frown deepened. “Fine. Then do not commit another mistake and do not fight when the war comes. Pretend you do not know, or just ignore it, doesn’t matter. Nobody will hold it against you if you either claim ignorance or say you are just doing as the All-Father wishes.” He paused, and then added in a milder tone, “Please.”

“I cannot, Loki. Neither you nor Father can ask it from me. I know what danger it entails, but nothing could possibly change my mind on that.”

“And what if you end up killing me?”

The question hit Thor like a blow, knocking the breath out of him. “No,” he uttered, wishing he sounded more confident. “ _No._ You _know_ I would not.”

“Do I?” Loki cocked his head. “Because I think I can no longer be so sure about that.”

Thor was about to bring up all those times Loki dismissed the danger, but he quickly changed his mind. Even if Loki had meant that before, it surely must’ve changed since their last battle.

“What—what if I kept away from you?” Thor suggested instead, but even before he finished the sentence, Loki rolled his eyes.

“A truly _brilliant_ plan,” Loki sneered. “Capable of backfiring in so many spectacular ways. Assuming you really managed to avoid before _and_ after you went berserk, you would either slay half of our army or force our soldiers to kill you to prevent just that. Of course, if they managed to do it in time. No, brother, this would only make the matters worse. If fighting for Asgard is your duty, no matter the collateral damage, then I consider _my_ duty to be reducing that damage as much as I can.”

“How about trying the spell again?”

“The same as then? It would not work. And developing a new one would take more time than we most likely have.”

“Then…” Thor paused, pressing his knuckles against his lips, trying to find some solution other than just withdrawing from the fight. He started pacing again, while Loki stayed where he was, following Thor with his eyes.

“This is probably going to take a while,” Loki said eventually with a slight note of impatience. “I suggest you continue thinking in your own chamber. Preferably after a night of sleep. Or a few nights. And in the meantime, just try stay out of any fight that may—”

“Wait.” Thor stopped, an idea suddenly appearing in his head. “And if I… Listen, I am not going to abandon our men when they go to battle. But unless things get dire, I shall not draw my weapon. I shall stand back and watch, and only if I think you will not manage without my help I will join the fight, as a last resort. How about that, brother?”

He looked at Loki expectantly; Loki, however, only knitted his brows, remaining silent for a brief moment. When he finally spoke, he sounded anything but convinced.

“You could hardly come up with a dumber idea.”

“What?!” Thor huffed, offended. “Why do you think—”

“Thor, I know you too well to believe you could stay away from battle while _looking at it!_ ” Frustrated, Loki threw his hands in the air. “It’s like leading a hungry hound to a warren and hoping it will not try to chase the rabbits! You are a warrior! When the battle calls to you, you will undoubtedly answer its call!”

“Is that what you _really_ think of me?” Thor growled; he rose and pointed a finger at Loki. “That I am a mere _hound?_ That my instincts trump my will?”

Loki barked a laugh. “You are a berserker, Thor. _Of course_ your warped instincts trump your will. It has always been so and it is not going to change anytime soon. In truth…” His voice turned vicious. “It took Father _way too much time_ to decide you are no longer fit to fight alongside the rest of us.”

Thor dug his fingernails into his palms. He had heard similar remarks before, but not spoken to his face, and not from the mouth of his own brother. True, Loki would scold him too from time to time, and he could be painfully blunt, but Thor had never perceived the intention of hurt in Loki’s words—it was like cleaning a wound, uncomfortable but necessary. Now, however, his words felt more like a kick in the ribs.

And Thor very much wanted to kick back. He wanted to lash out, to grab Loki by the shoulders and shout into his face that he was _wrong,_ that Thor could still control himself while not yet in battle, and that he was going to prove it—except that he knew he shouldn’t. That would be the exact opposite of doing something to help his case.

Maybe that was what Loki wanted. To provoke him, to show him how unreliable he was in when it came to self-control even outside of battle. And then Thor would realize he went too far, apologize for his behavior and concur, choosing to obey Odin of his own volition, because that would clearly seem like the best option.

Only that Thor would not. He _could not,_ even if it was getting more difficult to keep his emotions in check with every passing second and every passing remark from Loki. He had to put an end to this before he would snap.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm down at least a little, but when he spoke his voice was still vibrating with anger. “During war, my place is with our soldiers. This is the last thing I have to say for now.”

Not waiting for Loki’s response, he turned around and left the room; Loki only managed to call out his name once before Thor slammed the door shut behind him.

Thor almost wanted to go back to Odin’s chambers and confront him, but that would probably not go well even if he was in a better mood. Besides, Odin had probably fallen Asleep already—and for once, Thor was rather happy about it. And he could use some sleep too. On that one thing he was willing to agree with Loki: maybe he would come up with some better ideas in the morning. And if not, he would hopefully at least wake up less angry. He could have a calmer conversation with Loki then, or with Frigga; she had never given him any bad advice as long as he could remember.

By the time Thor reached his chambers, his anger had waned a little. Shedding the burden of his armor and taking a bath only helped him to relax further, and when he finally sank into the furs of his bed, he felt not just calm, but outright drowsy, the fatigue of the last few days finally getting the better of him. Thor did not mind at all. The sooner he drifted off to sleep, the sooner he’d wake up and ensure his participation in the war, should it really come.

 _I am one of Asgard’s best,_ Thor thought as he drew one of the furs tighter about himself. _I am its prince._ _There is simply_ no way _for me to stay out of the fight, and they all know it._

 _And no matter what, I shall_ not _hurt my brother._

Thor wanted to smile, but grimaced instead, as his last talk with Loki—and how it would have ended if he had not chosen to take his leave—resurfaced in his mind. The memory of what happened during their last battle quickly followed, accompanied by a disconcerting thought.

_How close was I today to seeing him like that again?_

Worry crept into Thor’s heart and began to gnaw on him, and Thor had to admit that maybe he really _should_ be worried. Maybe the time had come for him to acknowledge not only that his anger was a constantly growing problem, but also that Loki was no longer safe by his side.

“No,” he said firmly to himself. “Not him. Not my brother.”

_Not again. Not even now._

He closed his eyes, hoping that either his dreams or a new morning would banish his worries and bring him comfort.

 

* * *

 

There was a knock on the door.

Thor scrambled to get out of bed. He hadn’t slept as well as he’d hoped; he fell asleep fairly quickly, but kept waking up throughout the night, and couldn’t remember what he’d dreamed about—if he had dreamed at all. He yawned, stretching his arms, and caught a glimpse of the sky through the nearest window. Judging by the orange-tinted clouds stretching across the pale blue, the morning was still young. A bit younger that he’d intended to see, actually.

The visitor knocked again, this time slightly harder.

“A moment!” Thor got to his feet, pulled on the first set of clothes he found in the nearest dresser, and went up to the door. He thought it would be Loki waiting outside—here to talk about the previous evening’s events, or maybe even to offer some sort of veiled apology—but to his surprise he found General Tyr, the commander of the Einherjar, instead, accompanied by six other guards.

“My Prince,” Tyr said, his voice and expression grave, “by the order of the King of Asgard, you are to be escorted to the dungeon and locked away.”

It felt like a slap in the face.

Thor must have misheard. Or maybe he was still dreaming. He stared at Tyr, unable to speak, and hoping the situation would just somehow miraculously resolve by itself. But as seconds passed and nothing changed, he knew that was not an option.

 “ _What?_ ” Thor managed to say eventually. “Why would—General, what is the meaning of this?”

“It is exactly what you hear, my Prince. The order comes from the King himself. You are to come with us. We have been given permission to subdue you should you resist… however…” Tyr glanced over Thor’s shoulder at Mjolnir, which had been left beside the bed the previous evening. “We advise you to come willingly.”

Of course Tyr would say that. Even though he and the rest of the guards were armed, and one of them had a set of shackles at the ready, they would still barely stand a chance against Thor; if he acted fast enough, he could have them strewn across the corridor before they managed to clasp the restraints on him. He only needed to call the hammer, or maybe he could even rely on his own strength. The guards’ tensed stances, with their hands on weapons, and wary looks told Thor that they were well aware of that.

The thought only briefly crossed Thor’s mind, but it was enough to make him bow his head in shame. He had fought his fellow Asgardians too many times already. He was not going to shed their blood again if he could help it, especially not here, not in these halls.

“I suppose—I suppose I cannot see him now?” Thor asked quietly, looking up. He could feel his hands tremble, and hoped it went unnoticed, or at least would not be mistaken for a sign of anger.

“Not yet.” Tyr sounded less stern now; it seemed he was as reluctant to carry out Odin’s orders as Thor was to submit to them. “But the King said he would come to speak with you shortly.”

So apparently Odin was not only not Asleep yet, but also well enough to walk, despite swaying on his feet just a day before. Thor wondered how it could be possible, but that wasn’t a right moment for such musings.

“I will—” He had to clear his throat. “I will not resist.” Raising his hands in surrender, he stepped out of the room. “Just lead on.”

The others eyed him, and Tyr nodded in acknowledgment and, unmistakably, relief.

“Thank you, my Prince. You may lower your hands—ah, no,” he added as Thor held out his wrists. “I think that will not be necessary after all. Now… let’s go.”

The six guards surrounded Thor and they marched on, led by Tyr. Thor kept his gaze lowered, somewhat thankful that at this hour there would be hardly anyone in the palace for them to stumble upon, and let himself ponder on the way. There wasn’t much to ponder upon, though. It was clear why Odin wanted him in the dungeon, but that hardly made Thor feel any better about it. His Father had just decided to lock him up like some common criminal, and nothing, not the constant scolding, tirades, and even threats of losing his right to the throne, seemed as harsh as _this._

Questions arose in Thor’s head. Why hadn’t Odin even warned him about this possibility? Given how fond he’d been of issuing warnings recently, that was even stranger. Just for how long exactly had he been thinking about it? When had he started to consider the option seriously? Perhaps it had come to him only recently, with the war looming on the horizon and no known way of curing his berserker son in time for it. With little time to spare for any arguments, that would at least explain the suddenness of it… if not for the fact that Loki had mentioned at least one other option of resolving this and—

Thor almost stopped in his tracks.

_It was—it was a test. And I failed it._

Now when he thought of it, that would fit the picture perfectly, especially that Odin had apparently waited with the decision until morning, instead of making it immediately after his sons’ return. That conversation Thor and Loki had the previous evening, all of Loki’s hurtful words and baiting—it was all according to a plan, but the plan was _Odin’s._ To see what Thor would’ve done. To see if he’d have heeded his Odin’s word, if he could be trusted. Maybe even the All-Father being on the verge of the Odinsleep was a ruse too.

But even if it wasn’t Loki’s idea, he still chose to participate. Which still hurt, only in another, even more painful way.

_They schemed behind my back. He chose to go with it instead of warning me, of letting me prepare. Some brother he is…_

Thor tried to shake off the thought. Now it was not the time for anger. He didn’t even have any proof, just a guess. And a nasty, gnawing feeling that one way or another, Loki had _something_ to do with it.

_No. I cannot be so rash in my judgment. I need to speak to Father first. He should not withhold anything from me now._

But those speculations kept bothering him like flies all the way to the dungeons, and when he stepped into the empty bright-lit cell in the furthest corner of the dungeon and its protective wards were activated, the thoughts followed him inside. As most of the guards, including Tyr, left, only two of them staying behind to stand sentry, Thor sat down, hoping he wouldn’t have to wait too long. Tyr had said Odin would be coming “shortly” after all.

Apparently, he wouldn’t. After what felt like an hour, Thor took to pacing, feeling more agitated with every minute. After another hour, he sat back down. After a third hour, his guards were relieved and others took their place, barely glancing at him. Thor wasn’t sure if it was out of respect or fear, and he didn’t really care. He wondered if he should maybe take a nap to kill time, but when he closed his eyes, he found out he was too uneasy to sleep.

Finally, sometime between the fourth and fifth hour, when his patience was way past the point of wearing thin, he heard the heavy door of the dungeon open and the sound of footsteps drawing near. Thor snapped out of muddled thoughts and jumped to his feet, facing the approaching figure.

But, to his surprise, it wasn’t Odin.

Loki strode towards him, somewhat slowly, his ceremonial armor glimmering in the faint light as he drew closer, the fingers of his right hand tightened on—

Thor felt the blood draining from his face.

They had never been permitted to hold their Father's spear. Thor couldn't even recall if they had even _touched_ it. It was a weapon fit for the King of Asgard only, and the one who would rule in his stead when he Slept, Frigga.

To see Gungnir in Loki's grasp felt… wrong. It was as wrong as it would be to see the sky turn green or fire turn cold. And yet here it was, and Loki was wielding it proudly and with some kind of odd _ease,_ as if it fit his hand perfectly, as if it had been always meant to belong to him one day.

Even though it definitely did not. That hand had never been meant to hold that spear. Gungnir had been meant to be passed on to _Thor,_ not Loki.

 _Why does he have it? Where is Father? Why does_ he _have it?!_

A possible conclusion quickly came to Thor’s mind. _Father meant to see me. But now he really fell Asleep. But before that… before that, he gave it to Loki. He made him King, even if only for a while._

_He made him King._

_He chose_ him _to be king._

It was only when Loki was standing right in front of the barrier when Thor realized his teeth and fists were clenched and he was trembling with barely contained anger. Loki, however, seemed completely unmoved by that, regarding him with cold eyes.

“Leave us,” Loki said to the guards, without even sparing them a glance. “I would like to speak with my brother alone.”

They both waited as the guards left the dungeons. The moment the door closed behind them, Thor asked, “So Father Sleeps _now,_ I take it?” He tried to stop his anger from bleeding into his voice, but it didn't go too well.

“He does,” Loki replied, his voice as cold as his gaze. “In fact, he has been Asleep since last evening.”

Thor's brow creased in confusion. “Wait—since when? But I was told he would speak with me—”

“ _No,_ Thor,” Loki interrupted sharply. “You were told the _King_ would speak with you. And he does now.” A smirk danced on his lips for a split second. “Father told me yesterday that since I am of appropriate age and possess sufficient knowledge and qualities, I should rule while he regains his strength, and I was to assume the throne in the morning. Of course, it is only temporary, but still comes with all of Father’s privileges and duties. Speaking of duties, forgive me for not coming sooner. Court matters got in my way. I had to tend to them first.”

A terrible, terrible thought rose in Thor's head. “And when—when they said that the _King_ ordered me to be locked away, was it also _you?_ ”

This time, Loki _chuckled._ “Oh, it did not take you long to figure that out.”

In an instant Thor stopped caring if his wrath would show or not.

“ _Why have you done that?!_ ” Thor roared, banging his fist against the barrier, and instantly regretted it when it burned his hand; he stepped back, hissing in pain.

“Because I _finally could,_ ” he heard Loki say in a tone harsher than he'd ever heard him speak before, and his eyes snapped back to him. “Because _at last_ I could do something more substantial than try out some unreliable cure or an experimental spell. Because I could _finally_ do something to protect our people from you apart from just throwing myself in your way, hoping you would not just kill me, leaving _nothing_ standing between you and the others. _”_

Thor looked back at his brother, every word cutting him like a knife. “You— _what?_ Loki, but—”

“But what?” Loki snapped. “Do not tell me you would never hurt me, because I am finding it less believable with every battle I fight by your side. You already slipped once. Who is to say it will not happen again?”

“Then—for how long?” Thor asked, pain and fury burning him one the inside. “For how long have you felt this way? Why have you not told me earlier?”

“I tried. At first gently, at Bjarnarbekkr, with mediocre results. Then I told you about the berserkers, who had killed those dear to them, thinking it would give you some food for thought at least.”

“But you still had a backup plan—”

“Oh, _of course_ I had a backup plan. I always have them. But honestly? I did not have as much faith in it as you think.”

Thor’s nails dug into the skin of his palms. “You—you _persuaded me_ to trust you on this, you said it so many times that you wanted to try mind control magic, and you—you never believed it would help me?!”

“Let us say there was a time when I had more hope in this method than I have now. But do not think I did a lousy job on purpose. I did give it everything I could in the short time I had; were I more skilled, maybe I would have succeeded, and for a brief moment I even thought I did. Alas, I did not—and I almost paid _dearly_ for my failure, as it turned out.”

Thor swatted away the sudden pang of guilt, letting his rage fester and grow stronger. “So you did not do that to help me—but to _trick me._ ”

“And with that trick, I meant to help.”

“ _How?_ ”

“Do I really need to spell everything out to you? The spell failed. It could not help you. You could not control yourself either. I wanted you to withdraw on your own.” For a moment, his voice rang sad. “Had you done that, you would not have ended up here, brother. I had to lock you up. With the possibility of a war, I could not waste my time anymore.”

Running his hand through his hair, Thor looked away. He needed to fix his eyes upon something other than Loki for a moment. His heart was beating quickly, his breath was loud and uneven. “I hoped that it was a test, you know.” His voice trembled. “What you told me yesterday. I thought it would at least mean that was not true. Well… I did not think it could have been both a test and truth.” He faced Loki again, forcing a tight-lipped smile. “Since you feel so sincere now, brother, tell me one thing: did you really do it for me? Or for yourself?”

Loki looked at him confused; Thor could not say if that was genuine of not. “For me? Thor, I am no coward. If I fear for my life, it is only that there would be no one left to protect others from—”

“That’s not what I am talking about,” Thor interrupted. “Tell me rather if it was always your plan to have me in prison and you on the throne.”

Loki flinched, as if slightly offended. “Now you are taking it too far, brother.”

“Am I?” Thor growled, stepping as close to the barrier as he could without getting burned. “Just look at us. I am imprisoned, while you rule Asgard. Are you sure you always had my best interest in mind when you were trying to devise a way of curing me? Can you honestly say it was not supposed to end like this? With me here and you—and you as Father’s successor?”

Loki’s jaw dropped. “Thor—I _never_ wanted to take your place—”

“ _But you did!_ ” Thor barely refrained from slamming the barrier again, but the fury in his eyes was enough to force Loki to take a step back.

Once, Thor would be alarmed by his reaction and apologize. But he was way past that now.

“You took _everything_ that was once mine,” Thor spat, “but apparently that was not enough, was it? You just _had_ to make sure I would be left with _nothing,_ not even my _freedom._ ”

“I told you it is only until Father awakens—”

“He told you, did he not? That he would choose _you_ over me to rule Asgard as his successor?!”

Loki’s eyes grew wide and his face went pale; he almost dropped Gungnir before his fingers tightened on it again.

Thor realized he had probably said too much.

“He did—” Loki whispered; he closed his eyes, breathed deeply and then looked at Thor, his face a mask of perfect calm. “He had told me no such thing. But he did tell me something else, just before he fell Asleep. _‘No matter what, keep Thor away from the battlefield.’_ I am only doing Father’s will. Unlike _you._ ”

He turned on his heel and headed toward the exit.

“Are you done gloating?!” Thor shouted after him. “Don’t you have anything else interesting to say? Ran out of salt to rub into my wounds?”

“I will see you later, when you calm down.” Loki did not look back. “ _If_ you calm down.”

 

* * *

 

Eventually, Thor did simmer down, although he couldn’t let go of his anger completely. Soon, shame joined in, creating a most uncomfortable mixture.

He had got mad at Loki, and he had let it show again, in the course of two days. Taking into account the recent events, it was no wonder Loki preferred to keep him in a cell if his brother was behaving like that, even when completely sane.

_No, he only keeps me here because it is convenient. It has nothing to do with whether he fears to be killed or not. And my anger was righteous this time. It is one thing to lose myself in the battle, another to react to injustice and deceit._

Still, while one part of him—the larger, louder part—was convinced of Loki’s malice, the other part kept suggesting it was not necessarily so, and made sure he felt at least slightly that his being here was his own fault, filling his head with conflicted thoughts.

_Maybe I should not have insisted on participating in the war after all… Maybe I should have agreed to stay behind, no loopholes, no exceptions._

_But who knows if it would have changed anything? Loki would probably find another reason to get me out of his way. It is more comfortable for him to rule without shepherding me._

_Right. Because I need a shepherd. Because without him I am a threat. And now… and now I am a threat also to_ him.

_And to his plans. He cares not about me, or if Asgard indeed falls while I am still here; all that matters to him is that I do not get in his way anymore. Oh, brother, I will have more than words to exchange with you once I get out of here…_

As if it he was not uncomfortable enough, he knew nothing of what was going outside the dungeons. He wished he could summon Mjolnir. He even tried at one point, but the magical barrier apparently wouldn’t not allow him to. A pity. Maybe if he had his hammer, he would be able to break out and learn about the situation.

Hours kept passing and nobody was telling him anything—but then, nobody really came to visit. The guards were his only company, even the cells in the vicinity were empty; as for those near the exit, he couldn’t tell. He had tried asking the guards what was happening, but they remained silent, except a younger one, who simply said he wasn’t allowed to tell. Eavesdropping yielded him nothing; he was too far away to hear anything distinct.

Despite the lack of visitors, his cell’s furnishings had improved, going from absolutely nothing to a quite comfortable cot, a chair and a table that appeared out of thin air together with his first prison dinner. Thor assumed they were gifts from his Mother and thanked her in his mind, wondering if she would come or if Loki would not allow any visitors. She also sent him some books and while he was never an avid reader, he gave them a try, if only to pass the time. But it was hard to focus on stories while he either kept arguing with himself or worrying about the war, which might have been approaching his home as he remained here, helpless. Maybe he could relax a bit more if instead of books he had a practice dummy or two.

Eventually—the next morning, if he’d been counting his meals right—Frigga finally came in person. She stayed behind the barrier, but visited him nevertheless, and sent the guards away to give them some privacy.

“I never expected to see you like this,” she said with a note of pain in her voice, just after she greeted him.

“Neither did I ever expect this,” Thor replied. “Could you do anything, perhaps? Convince Loki to release me? Or order it yourself?”

“I am sorry, son, but no.” She shook her head. “As long as your Father is Asleep, Loki is King, and he has the greatest power in all of Asgard. His word means more than mine. As for convincing him… I tried. But he’s adamant on keeping you here as long as he sees fit.”

“Figures,” Thor muttered, lowering his eyes. “I will probably sit here until Father awakens or until—” His head snapped up. “Mother, is it true? That we are at war? Are we winning? Losing?”

“Slow down, Thor,” She raised her hands and glanced around. “I am not really supposed to tell you that—”

“Mother…” Thor furrowed his brow. “Was it Loki who forbade you to speak to me of this?”

“Yes. He ordered that no one is to tell you anything about the current state of affairs. And, as I said, as long as he is King, I should heed his orders…” Suddenly, she smiled, and added in a hushed voice “But I cannot honestly tell that I have always done as your Father told me while he was in power. I believe I can… _bend_ the rules a little sometimes. Even your Father would not dare to punish me for that, let alone Loki.”

Thor returned the smile. “Mother, you are marvelous.”

She chuckled, waving her hand. “Oh, you do not have to tell me that. Now, listen…” She motioned him to crouch down, drew closer to the barrier and whispered, “It probably cannot be called a war yet, but we have had more news of those Soldiers of the Serpent, as people are calling them, since you left to dispatch that last group a few days ago. They have been raiding towns and villages, mostly in the north, but they are moving southward and they have been becoming more bold. This morning Loki sent out soldiers to deal with them and capture some for questioning, but I can hardly call it a full-fledged war for now. A revolt, maybe, or particularly organized bandits. I do not know much more from that. I spent today mostly watching over your Father.” She paused, her eyes downcast. “It may be his longest Sleep yet. He had ignored the signs for too long and he’s not young enough to afford that anymore. Too bad it happened at such an unfortunate time.”

Thor groaned, standing up. “Then I am going to spend quite a while in there.”

“Do not fret, son. I have to stay by your Father, and I also should oversee Loki from time to time, but I will talk to you every day, either in person or through illusions, and I shall provide you with news if I learn anything.”

Thor nodded. “Thank you, Mother. But—does it mean you are already leaving?”

“No, not yet. A few minutes of my company after a whole day of solitude surely cannot be enough, don’t you think? I came to talk. I see I do not have to ask how are you feeling; I can see for myself that you are… not taking it well.”

“You are putting it mildly. I do not know if I am more bored, or anxious, or upset.”

“Then let us speak of something that will ease your mind.”

“Speaking of upset… Tell me, did anything happen during your last skirmish?”

Thor flinched. “What do you mean?”

“I just…” She clasped her hands nervously. “I know Loki said nothing too unusual happened, but with Heimdall not being able to see you then… I have a feeling that there is something I should know.”

“There’s no such thing!” Thor said, apparently too quickly and with not enough conviction, judging by the way Frigga narrowed her eyes.

“I knew I should have started with you,” she said. “Loki can lie flawlessly, even when looking me straight in the eyes, but you… Oh, you’re such a bad liar.”

“I am not—”

“Thor, please. You will only end up fumbling and admitting the truth anyway; you always do that when caught lying.”

“But—”

“Thor, Heimdall just so conveniently happens not to see anything, and both you and Loki insist that nothing happened? I am not necessarily saying that it was either of your fault that Heimdall’s Sight had been blocked, but something tells me he missed something important. And if nothing happened, then you can relate everything to me, can’t you, dear?”

“I—” Thor choked out. “Well, I—I went into the berserker rage again.” That wasn’t really a lie, although he could feel his cheeks burn slightly and avoided Frigga’s gaze anyway. She was right; at this rate, if she pressed on, he was going to tell her everything. Not only it had always been hard for him to tell a lie, but also it was always easy for her to wring the truth out of him just by _looking_ at him. It was miraculous enough he had managed not to reveal the fact he and Loki had been trying to develop that failed spell yet—probably because nobody asked any questions about what they were doing all that time; it was not odd for the two of them to train together or to practice calming techniques that Odin approved of, even if they never really worked.

Frigga sighed. “As sad as it sounds, that really not that unusual. Did _anything else_ happen?”

Thor’s mind was racing, trying to come up with something, but he could think of anything plausible enough on the spot—anything but the truth.

 _What should I say?_ He turned away, pressing his knuckles against his mouth—and he knew he lost already by doing this. He could still again give her a partial truth, but then he didn’t know _which_ part was worse. If he told her he had attacked his brother, she might end up agreeing with Loki and supporting his imprisonment. If he told her about Loki’s spell, he would have to admit he had agreed to be a test subject. Both of those would condemn him.

But both of those provided a chance of easing the guilt that was eating away at him. Maybe revealing one of them would be worth it.

Especially, as Thor realized, one of them would also implicate Loki. That made the decision much easier.

Thor took a deep breath and turned back to Frigga. “Mother, I—I am sorry.” He did not even have to pretend to sound pained. “There is something—something that I have been hiding from you. That _both_ of us, me and Loki, have been hiding.”

“And what is this, son?” she asked apprehensively, wringing her hands.

“We—” He swallowed hard; it was still easier to think about revealing this than to actually say it out loud. “We tried mind control magic.”

Her eyes widened. “You tried _what?_ ”

“I mean—not really me. It was Loki, mostly. But I had my part in it too.” And he recounted how Loki coaxed him into the plot. With every word he said, Frigga seemed to look at him with more disapproval—but also sympathy. Eventually, tears gathered in his eyes and he stopped caring about getting back at Loki whatsoever. Now gaining Frigga’s forgiveness mattered the most.

“I am sorry, I really am,” he said at the end, bowing his head. “I know I disregarded you both when I agreed to this, but… I hoped it could _really_ help me. I just wanted not to—not to endanger anyone anymore.”

Frigga was silent for a moment, and finally she said, “I am… glad you confessed. And I understand your desire of being rid of this—this curse. To think you would go that far…” She paused, closing her eyes, and then opened them again. “Certainly both you and Loki had the best intentions. But you still dabbled in forbidden arts, and I cannot ever approve of that, nor can your Father. But this time—and _only_ this time—I shall not speak of it to your Father once he awakens. Next time I learn of such a thing, he learns of this too—but since you already saw how fruitless it was, I doubt there will be a second.” She gave him a small smile. “Am I right, son?”

“Absolutely.” He smiled too. The confession and his Mother’s response made him feel lighter and he almost, _almost_ wanted to tell her about what he almost did to Loki too, if it could wash off the feeling of guilt further—but there was too much of a chance it could also ruin everything instead.

“Now then… I shall have a few words with your brother. And I probably will not be as lenient with him as I was with you, especially given that it was _his_ idea. Mind control magic… And here I thought I talked him out of it already…” She heaved a sigh.

Thor couldn’t help but feel a bit of satisfaction at this, and his smile briefly turned into a smirk. “Will you come tomorrow?”

“Have you not been listening to me, dear? I said I would see you every single day. I am not going to leave my child all alone while he is clearly miserable.” She raised her hand as if she wanted to press it against the barrier, but stopped short of it. Thor responded in kind, also keeping a safe distance between his palm and the scorching golden glow.

He did not want her to go yet, but maybe it was safer for him if she left. He didn’t know how long he would be able to keep yet another secret from her if she kept giving him such a sad, loving look.

 _I cannot tell her,_ he thought, biting his tongue. _This will bring no relief to any of us, only pain. She cannot know. On this I must agree with Loki._ No one _can know._

Frigga lowered her hand. “It will be alright, Thor. Maybe I will find time to come once again today, in the evening. Until we see again… try not to worry too much. And…” She glanced at the books in his cell. “Try maybe to read something. Take your mind somewhere else.”

He chose not to tell her that he had tried but couldn’t focus, and instead nodded. “I shall try.”

It wasn’t like he had anything else to do here. If she had given him the books already, it would be ungrateful of him to ignore them. “Ah, by the way—thank you for those books, Mother.”

“Oh?” Frigga blinked. “Why, Thor—I furnished your cell, but those books are not from me.”

“Not you? Then—”

“Well, I guess they must be from Loki.”

 

* * *

 

Thor did not even touch the books again. If he did, he would probably rip them apart, and he did not know if they were Loki’s personal possessions or something he had taken from the library. It was better not to risk damaging something potentially valuable. But wherever they came from, they were obviously just tools of mockery, rather than an expression of kindness.

Frigga did not come that day, nor did she come for about a week afterwards. When she finally visited him again, she began with an apology.

“I was not able to see you,” she explained. “When I talked with Loki, he—he was clearly upset. He said I could not come to you again until he declared otherwise, and even made it so I could not reach you even through illusions. Only now he changed his mind and allowed me to talk to you.”

Thor wondered if it was because she told him about the situation with the Soldiers of the Serpent, or because he told her about Loki’s spell. It seemed that the latter was more likely the case, since she proceeded to give him even more information about the unrest almost immediately. But, it turned out, she did not have much to add to what he had told him already, mostly because there was still not much known.

The few rebels they had caught for questioning told them nothing. Some had been even apparently brought to Asgard to be interrogated—and Thor could, in fact, recall a commotion coming from the front cells, suggesting somebody had been brought in—but the captives still refused to talk. Even _Loki,_ of all people, did not manage to get anything out of them, to his great frustration.

“While I do not believe he tells me everything,” Frigga said, “it is evident that they get on his nerves. He says they only speak nonsense, keep talking about how we are going to see everything for ourselves soon. I have seen some of them and they—they do not look of entirely sound mind, to be honest.”

She preferred to keep the news of the insurrection, or the war, or whatever it was, really, to the necessary minimum and was more keen to talk about everything else, mostly insubstantial things and harmless gossip from around Asgard, most likely to make Thor think of something else for a change. In that, she did not succeed; when she left, Thor was left wondering about those strange enemies, whom even _Loki_ could not make to divulge their secrets. He went to sleep and then woke up with the issue in mind, and it continued for days on, when Frigga kept coming and still delivering him the news, which weren’t new at all, until a point at which she announced Loki left Asgard to assess the current situation with his own eyes, leaving her to take care of the city matters.

It kept going on for about one week more—all while the All-Father, unfortunately, remained Asleep—and Asgard was coming no closer to solving the mystery of the Soldiers of the Serpent, until three unexpected things happened.

First of all, the attacks suddenly stopped. There were no news of any raids or sighting and in a matter of several more days everyone just assumed that whatever the enemy soldiers’ goal was, they just gave up on it and everything was returning back to normal. At first, Thor thought it a good sign—maybe it meant he would be freed soon.

Second, Frigga stopped coming, and Thor could not shake off the feeling that Loki must have returned and decided to put a stop to her visits again. His hopes for release vanished again, leaving a nagging feeling that something was _still_ wrong, maybe worse than he’d been told, and there wasn’t even anyone who could confirm or deny his suspicions, which made him feel even more on edge than before. He could not make himself think of anything else, even if he wanted to.

Third, a few days after Frigga’s last visit, Loki came to see Thor again.

 

* * *

 

“Brother I—I need your help.”

Before Loki said it, Thor was still in bed, awake but not yet making any effort to stand up. But when Loki spoke those words, Thor sat up as if something bit him, and looked at his brother in disbelief.

Loki was pale, there were dark circles under his eyes, and all his proud composure he had walked in with for the first time he came to see Thor in the dungeons was gone. He was holding Gungnir too tightly, as if he feared somebody would snatch it out of his hands, and did not even bother to keep his back straight. He looked visibly distressed, and more than just a few sleepless nights were written all over him. Given how Loki always valued appearance, and always made his best to appear well-groomed and impeccable, the sight was unusual, if not downright disturbing. Or suspicious.

Thor decided not to pity him yet. For all he knew, this could very well be another act. He stood up and slowly walked up to the barrier.

“You must be truly desperate to come to me for help,” Thor said with a hint of sarcasm.

“You are correct. I am.”

“May I know what made you so desperate, o mighty King of Asgard?”

Loki’s mouth twitched at Thor’s words. “A threat,” he said. “An enemy that Asgard has faced before… and yet it has not. Not like that.”

Worry stirred in Thor’s chest, although Loki’s speech was becoming slightly irritating. “Stop talking in riddles and get to the point.”

“We know the leader of the Soldiers of the Serpent.”

“You _do?_ ” Thor’s brow shot up. “And who is that?”

“It’s—it’s Fafnir of Nastrond, Thor. He _lives._ ”

Thor opened his mouth, and then closed it, trying to process the information, every other emotion momentarily replaced with confusion.

“Should—should he not be dead?” He asked in the end. “It has been over three thousand years since he was left to die after the siege of Castle Nastrond—are you _sure_ it is really him?”

Loki chuckled nervously. “It is quite difficult to tell, given that he is a _dragon_ now.”

Thor almost choked on his own breath, baffled. “He’s—a _what?!_ ” _This is a lie. This_ has _to be a lie, and it is a bad one._ “This is preposterous, Loki, people do not _turn into dragons—_ ”

“You are welcome to tell that to everyone who swear by their own lives that was who that monster introduced himself as. Myself included. I saw him too, and I heard him announce that he is indeed Fafnir and that he has returned.”

“Dragons do not speak!”

“All the more reason to believe that particular one.”

Thor felt his head spin a little. “No, but—a _dragon?_ How in the—”

“We are not sure,” Loki interrupted, “but we have a theory. The seidr plume, the one that was under Castle Nastrond—it is no longer there, Heimdall can confirm this. He can see the ruins of the castle and confirm it is empty. We suppose Fafnir must have somehow absorbed that power and that caused the transformation. That was probably what he was preparing for moments before he was captured. But this is nothing we can prove yet, nor is it important at the moment. There are more pressing matters. Fafnir is coming, Thor. He is an enormous dragon, he’s coming for Asgard and if he does come…” He took a breath, shaking his head. “I do not know if we can withstand it.”

As absurd as Loki’s tale sounded, Thor was becoming less and less convinced that this might just be another part of Loki’s plot against him. At the very least, he could not ignore that revelation, lest it turned out to be true.

“How far is he from Asgard?” he asked.

“Fafnir takes his time. I saw him last about seven days ago, and he had not drawn too close since. He seems to like to… linger for a while. Apparently he wants to destroy as much as he can before he lays waste to Asgard; he started by going on a rampage in the north. And he has to go through the Asgard Mountains, probably through the Howling Pass. Heimdall says that at this rate he should reach Asgard in five days.”

“But—wait—Heimdall didn’t see him? He failed to spot a _huge dragon?_ ”

“He says Fafnir must have been concealing himself. He was laying low. Only because he chose to reveal himself Heimdall could finally see him.”

Thor frowned. “Why would he let Heimdall see him? He could have easily make his way to Asgard unnoticed and—”

“Thor, please, _think._ ” Loki rolled his eyes. “Fafnir can hide himself from _Heimdall._ If anybody walked up to him, they could easily see him. The news would have reached us in advance anyway. He does not want secrecy anymore, Thor. He _wants_ us to know he is coming. He wants us to _fear._ ”

A shiver ran down Thor’s spine. “How do you know that?”

“Because he told us that. He wants us to tremble knowing we can do nothing but wait until he kills us all and razes Asgard to the ground. And I…” Loki paused, lowering his head. “I have sent soldiers after him. A whole garrison at first. I watched Fafnir slaughter them all.” When he looked back up, his eyes were wide with dread, and Thor could feel it seep into him. “Then I dispatched some of the Einherjar. He took them out too. If I send more, they will only stall him at best.”

“How come?” Thor whispered, noticing the tremor in his own voice. “How could they fail? They are our best warriors, the bravest—”

“Even the bravest reach a point at which they courage breaks apart. Their broke at the sight of Fafnir. The first troops scattered almost immediately, at the sound of Fafnir’s roar. The Einherjar fought him longer, but he broke their spirit when he set one flank on fire and wiped another out with his tail. This, and his whole _presence,_ how he _looks_ at you and _speaks_ to you can be enough for some to drop their weapon and run away.”

“And you…” A spark of anger flickered in Thor’s chest. “You did _nothing?_ You only _watched_ as our soldiers died? You also _ran away?_ ”

Loki gritted his teeth. “You have not been there. You do not _know_ how fearsome he can be. And I was their _leader_ then, Thor. I had to oversee the situation, decide when to withdraw or when to send in more troops. The situation was too grave for me to join them.”

“ _Too grave?_ That would be _exactly_ when you should have joined them! I would have done so!”

“Good thing you were not leading them, then. Had I joined, they would lose their leader and head strategist, and Asgard would lose its current King. Their morale would have plummeted even more than it already had. It would only make the situation direr. Selfish as it sounds, we cannot afford my death now. But I am not proud of myself, not in the slightest. I hoped I could manage that, but when Fafnir appeared, I—” His voice was breaking. “I failed, Thor. The forces I had at my disposal were not enough, and none of my strategies would have worked. I had to flee, to gather more soldiers and think of a new plan. And I realized I need your help.”

Right. Thor’s help. That was why Loki had come in the first place. And it did not take long for Thor to understand _what_ that help would entail.

“…No. No, no, no,” he sputtered. “You cannot think—”

“Yes, I can.”

“I cannot possibly make a difference, I am but one—”

“You are a _berserker,_ ” Loki said firmly. “Your curse is your greatest asset right now. When the rage overwhelms you, you know no fear. Fafnir _cannot break you._ ”

“No, but he can still kill me!”

“Not if you join our ranks and kill him first.”

Thor narrowed his eyes, a question on the tip of his tongue—but he was not going to ask it. For one, if the answer was “yes,” then Loki would not admit it. And even despite all the recent animosity between them, Thor could not bring himself to ask Loki if he simply wanted his brother killed.

 _He cannot want that. He surely cannot be_ that _wicked._

“How can you be so sure that I can kill him?” he asked instead.

Loki sighed. “I… cannot. But I have reasonable hope. I saw what you can do while in berserker rage—and you can do the _impossible._ If anyone can stop Fafnir, it is you.”

For a brief moment, Thor wanted to decline, to say that since Loki wanted him locked up in a cell, that was where he was going to stay. But he could not do something so petty and selfish as refusing aiding Asgard, his home, against a powerful enemy just out of spite. He had spent too much effort on arguing why he would never, ever do that before, and he was not going to change his mind now.

Especially that, if Loki’s account was true, there was nothing more Thor wanted in that moment than to get out of his cell, see Fafnir for himself, and have a part in slaying him.

“Then let me out and let’s go slay that beast,” he said.

 

* * *

 

The soldiers around them seemed agitated. Thor could not help but wonder if it was because of him or the threat of Fafnir. At least they had confirmed Loki’s story and admitted that yes, there was a dragon making his way to Asgard, and that not even the best soldiers in Asgard could do much more than put a scratch or two on him, and some of them have even seen him themselves.

Of course, they could be lying on Loki’s order, but the dread gleaming in their eyes and echoing in their voices seemed to suggest that was no lie.

And Loki probably would not be taking a whole host of soldiers to fight an imaginary monster.

“But are those _really_ necessary?” Thor asked, glancing down at his chained hands. The guard had put the shackles on him the moment Loki had deactivated the barrier of his cell. The chain linking the manacles was quite long, which allowed him for a certain freedom of movement—it certainly did not made it much harder to ride a horse, apart from making that annoying clanking sound—but they still felt uncomfortable. There was also the matter that he could not summon Mjolnir while wearing them, which was why he had had to be escorted to his rooms earlier that day, only so that he could put on his armor and place Mjolnir in a special engraved box, which could then be carried by anyone—in this case, by a guard following them closely behind, surrounded by even more of his fellow soldiers. Not that Thor though it was entirely sensible for such security—even if somebody stole the hammer, they most likely would not be able to wield it at all. Unless it was to guard Mjolnir from himself. Which it probably was.

They had set out shortly afterwards, accompanied by about three hundred soldiers, both Einherjar and the lesser ranking ones. They left almost as many of them back at Asgard, in case they failed or someone else would like to take advantage of the city’s vulnerability. There were also other troops, stationed in outposts along the way, their main task being to stall Fafnir for as long as they could, and maybe tire him at least a little before the main army would reach him.

“You already asked this,” Loki responded dryly from his steed. At least he was riding an ordinary horse and not Sleipnir. The All-Father’s mount was a stubborn beast and probably would not let anyone but his true master to ride him.

“I thought I am being released?”

“You are being released for a specific purpose. I cannot let you escape before we arrive at our destination.”

“Why would I escape? I already told you I _want_ to fight Fafnir.”

“Exactly. You would probably rush off, leaving us all behind. There is a _reason_ I am taking an army with me.”

 _Which I can kill along with the dragon,_ Thor thought bitterly, remembering that Loki not managing to calm him down in time was a real possibility now. “Maybe I _should_ go ahead of them, so they will not get in my way when I—”

“This way you would get yourself killed before landing the first strike.”

“But—”

“ _Enough,_ ” Loki barked, giving him a sharp look. “You will join the fight when I say so, _not a minute earlier._ ”

Seeing as there was no point I arguing with Loki at the moment, Thor fell silent—at least until he remembered he still had other questions regarding Fafnir.

“You never told me about his followers. Why were they in league with him?”

Loki shrugged. “Most of them, I believe, seemed enthralled. Some were scared into submission, I believe. But they were only the prelude. There had been no more of them for a while. The real danger is Fafnir himself.”

“But why send them in the first place? Why not just reveal himself from the start?”

“You may ask him when you meet him.” Loki sounded annoyed.

“But surely you must have a theory?”

“Yes, I do—but this is just that: a bunch of theories. If you are _so_ interested in my speculations, I think it could be to confuse us and somehow foretell his return, especially given their insignia, then to think the storm was gone as the attacks ceased, only for his reappearance to seem even more shocking. Unnecessarily, I think. Basically returning back from the dead—as a dragon, no less—would be enough of a shock for us. Or maybe he wanted us to lose some of our military to those lackeys of his. Or maybe to remind us of his old rebellion, to force us into killing each other again in revenge. Still…” He sighed. “Such speculation gives us nothing. It is no longer a part of his tactic and so we should not focus on that.”

“Do you not think he may use those people again? Or worse—use _our soldiers?_ ”

“He might have run out of followers. From what I have seen, he had not tried to enthrall anyone I sent out to fight him. Either he does not want to do that anymore, or he would need more time to corrupt their minds. Also, I believe he wants all the glory of destroying Asgard just for himself. You should have heard his speeches.” Loki shivered. “It is all about him. About how _he_ is going to topple the palace. About how _he_ is going to shatter the Bifrost Bridge. About how _he_ is going to—to swallow our Father whole. Or to rip him to shreds. He seems to have not made a decision on that yet.”

“Then we better kill him before he makes it,” Thor said; he never thought he could come to despise somebody he had not ever seen yet.

“Save your anger for later. You are going to need it.”

“Still…” Thor found himself unable to drop the subject. “I have no intention of backing out now, but…” He steered the horse closer to Loki’s and lowered his voice. “You know, if I am as dangerous as you fear, maybe we should do it as I said before: I will wait and see if you could hold him back, and then join the fight—”

Loki brought his hand to his forehead. “Thor, how many times do I have to tell you—it is _my_ call to decide when you join in. I still have to rethink it on the way, but please, try not to influence my decision.”

“If you are so worried for our soldiers—”

Loki turned to him. “I am worried for _you_ the most.”

Thor almost fell of his horse. He looked away quickly to hide his surprise, because it _should not have been surprising._ He should not feel so stunned at Loki admitting to still caring for him, but after everything that had happened between them recently, he could hardly find it believable.

“I can handle myself, Loki,” he mumbled, fixing his gaze on his horse’s mane.

“I hope so,” he heard Loki say. “This is why we are taking you with us.” He paused. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, yes, I am. I just…” With reproach ringing in his voice, he faced Loki again. “You lied to me. You _imprisoned_ me. When you let me out, you had me shackled right away. You want to tell me nothing regarding your plans on fighting Fafnir. And now you are saying you are _worried_ for me. Excuse me if I find something here does not exactly fit the rest of the picture.”

Loki said nothing, choosing to gaze at the jagged line of the Asgard Mountains before them; having not received any response, Thor joined him in that.

Five days away, Heimdall had said. That meant they would probably encounter Fafnir in two or three. It was very likely that the battle would happen in those mountains. He wondered if they could somehow use the terrain to their advantage, given that they were going to fight an enemy much larger than themselves. If they could, Loki most likely had it all figured out, or was close to it… Thor hoped Loki _would_ share his plans with him eventually. “Joining the ranks and killing Fafnir first” was a bit too general to work.

“You are troubled.”

Thor’s eyes snapped to Loki. His brother was still staring at the mountains, or maybe his gaze was fixed on nothing in particular, just to avoid Thor’s.

“I think… We should talk,” Loki added, when he received no response. “Not now, but when we make camp. Anger may help you win this fight, but doubt certainly will not. We need to dispel it before we encounter Fafnir.”

Thor still said nothing, and Loki still refused to look at him.

_Just what are you playing at, brother?_

But the answer would have to wait, and so Thor decided he would do so too. He had waited weeks already. A few hours were hardly anything in comparison.

 

* * *

 

“Do you really think you should be drinking now?” Thor remarked, watching as Loki took a large gulp from him goblet.

“I can hardly think of a more perfect moment.” Loki put the goblet back on the table, next to another empty one and a jug of wine. Not the strongest Asgard had to offer, but considering the circumstances, it was probably for the better. “Do you want some?”

Thor shook his head. It was late night already; the area was getting quite bumpy and they had found themselves in the forest on their way to the Howling Pass. They had set up camp and although Thor had half-expected to be put in some cage, Loki instead had decided on having him spend the night in his own tent. It was quite luxurious compared to the others—it was spacious enough for one to pace around if they wanted to, and had actual furnishings instead of just a couple of sleeping bags, including a few tables and not just one but two cots, one Loki was now sprawled on and other for Thor.

“Oh well. Your loss.” Loki poured himself some more wine.

“I really think you should be sober,” Thor said disapprovingly. “You always handled being drunk poorly. And we may even see Fafnir tomorrow.” At least if those strange noises they had started hearing in the distance this evening were really dragon roars and not just sounds of some stray bilgesnipes or rock wyrms.

“I do not know if I can handle him while completely sober,” Loki muttered, lifting the goblet to his lips again. “Or… the other things, for that matter.”

“You mean whatever is that you want to talk about?”

Loki hesitated. He took a sip of wine and cleared his throat. “…Yes.” He stared inside the goblet, as if trying to see the future in it. “You seem quite… adamant on the idea that I had schemed against you. I—I would like to assure you that it was not the case.”

“Forgive me if I do not completely trust your words,” Thor scoffed. “You gave me enough reason to doubt them. You _admitted_ you have been lying to me all along.”

“Not _all_ along.” Loki glared at him briefly, and then lowered his gaze again. “Although…” He sighed, wiping his eyes with his fingers. “Listen, brother, I—first of all, I want you to know that I never intended any of this.”

“So it just _happened_ that I found myself locked up in a cell one day?”

“I had no other choice if I wanted to honor Father’s wish. But I have to admit that was…” He paused for a moment. “I found that convenient.”

Thor tensed. “Convenient? So you _planned_ some of this after all?”

“Listen, Thor.” Loki put the goblet down; the table rattled. “I told you I want to dispel your doubt. And I shall do it. But… I cannot tell you that what I am going to say is not going to hurt. You will probably get quite angry before I am finished, but promise me one thing… Listen to me. To all I have to say.”

“How can I know you are not just going to feed me more lies?”

At first Loki said nothing. Then he stood up, walked up to Thor and, to Thor’s surprise, unlocked the shackles on his wrists.

“Is that enough of a sign of goodwill?” Loki asked, tossing the chains aside and returning to his cot.

Thor stared for a moment, positively stunned, although still suspicious. He briefly thought of grabbing Mjolnir, still hidden in the box standing just next to Loki’s cot, and running away to face the Fafnir alone, without endangering anyone, neither the soldiers nor his brother, but shook the thought off. If Loki trusted him enough, he was not going to squander it. “Fine. I will listen.”

Loki took a deep breath. “This is going to be a long night… Where to begin…”

“Maybe from the start?”

Loki laughed, briefly and mirthlessly, then drank some more of the wine. “Right,” he said. “That is a good suggestion. From the start. From the day the world learned you are a berserker.”

Thor flinched at that, though he supposed he should not find it shocking. After all, his affliction was the core of all his problems.

“You see,” Loki continued, “at first my reaction was like everybody else’s. I worried. I tried to understand why. I hoped there would be a way to heal you. I was scared. But then things went on and on and I…” He paused, giving Thor an apologetic look. “I started thinking that maybe it was not as bad as I thought.”

“How so?” Thor asked, although he thought he already knew the answer.

“I still remember the things as they were before it was revealed that you are a berserker, brother. How people laughed at me for being weak. How they whispered behind my back and scolded me for pursuing the magical arts. And then there was that incident in the training grounds—and things started to change since that day.” He looked down “The more people were afraid of you, the more they came to respect me. Especially when it became clear that I could calm you down while everyone else failed. It was easy for me to notice that, and I did not want it to end. I did not want it to return to what it had been like before. I did not want to be _nothing_ again.”

Thor wanted to get mad. He felt he had _every right_ to get mad. And yet Loki was speaking in such a way, with such shame lingering in his voice, that Thor found it hard to be angry—or at least to let his anger, still not fully quenched, show.

Instead, he went on to ask, “But—through all those years, you searched for a cure too. We tried some out, and I’m not even talking about that latest spell. Or did you know it would all be in vain all along?”

Loki emptied the goblet; his cheeks were now slightly rosy. “Have you not noticed what was my favorite method of curing you? Never mind that it never worked.”

Thor pondered for a moment before answering. “You usually went for spells.”

Loki nodded. “Yes. And not only because this is what I specialize in. A spell would not be permanent. It would need to be recast in order to keep you in check. And if it was  _me_  who came up with that spell—”

Thor raised his eyebrows, suddenly understanding. “You would be hailed as a savior.”

“Something among those lines, yes,” Loki said.

“But was the fact you could stop me not enough?”

“It was, for the time being. But once I realized we needed a more… _reliable_ solution. And something more convenient. With that, I could cast a spell on you before the battle and not worry if I could get to you before you slaughtered half our troops or not. At least that was what I hoped for. But after every spell that did not work, I was losing another bit of hope of ever devising the right one. In truth, when we started our experiment, I was still quite enthusiastic—we never actually tried anything that had to do with mind control magic before after all—but the further we tried, the less hope I had. By the time I finally cast the spell before the battle, I had almost no hope. Seeing the results only confirmed my fears. What I told you back then was true. A more powerful spell would be too dangerous for you.”

Loki fell silent for a while. Thor did not break the silence, waiting for more.

“When Father told me he would let me rule in his stead, I…” Loki said eventually, but trailed off. “I did not know to feel. Overwhelmed? Overjoyed? It was a bit of both, perhaps. And I noticed I was given a chance for something I never expected to get.”

“Kingship?” Thor asked.

“No. Becoming a person of my own.”

Thor eyed him, tilting his head. “Um… What exactly do you mean by that?”

Loki looked him straight in the eyes. “I am well aware of the fact that everything I have is only thanks to your condition, brother. I have earned nothing myself. I would never have been noticed were it not for your failings. If I could shine, it was only because you provided a dark enough background.”

“That’s… not exactly a compliment.” Thor grimaced.

“I know. But that was how everyone else saw it. You were too dangerous, so they chose me to fawn over. But in my heart of hearts I knew that if only you stopped being a berserker, I would lose it all. And Father’s nomination provided me with a… splendid opportunity. I could do things on my own accord. I could solve the matter of the Soldiers of the Serpent. I could prove my inherent worth, not in comparison to you, but just as it is. I just…” He hesitated. “I needed you out of the way. I had to work alone. Not only because Father wanted it, but _I_ wanted that too.”

“You—” Thor bristled. “So _that_ was why you sent me to the dungeons?”

“…In part. At first I just wanted to keep you away. But when you made it clear that you would not do so of your own, I did what I did. Not that we did not benefit from that.” He smiled for a split second. “I doubt we could seize any captives if we brought you along.”

“That was barely a benefit,” Thor cut in. “They have not told you anything useful.”

Loki barked a laugh. “Point taken. But it had been a long time since I last witnessed our soldiers fight without you and let me tell you, they _were_ rather relieved they had not to fear you this time.”

Now that stung a bit.

“There is only one thing I do not understand, though,” Thor said

“And it is…?”

“Why are you telling me this? Is that only to, as you put it, ‘dispel my doubt?’ Or is there something else?”

He silently hoped that there was, and just this once his wishes were fulfilled.

“I… I could not bear it anymore,” Loki admitted. “Losing your trust. I have had it for so long I did not even realize how precious it is to me. Especially now, that…” He ran his hand through his hair. “When Fafnir appeared, I failed.” Loki lowered his head; his hands shook a little. Whether it was the wine or something else, Thor could only guess. “I could not solve it alone. People are already whispering. I hear them. They are disappointed. They say I am not fit to be King, some even say I am a disgrace. Since Fafnir emerged, I more often see scorn than respect in their eyes, and soon I may lose all of it. Father will certainly be disappointed too when he wakes. And I do not want to be alone when that happens.”

Even though he was not quite ready to forgive Loki, Thor could not help but finally let pity get the better of him. He rose and stepped closer to put a hand on Loki’s shoulder.

“You will not be alone,” he said. “I promise you this.”

“Hah.” Loki grinned wryly. “You have not even heard the worst part.”

“What?” Thor frowned, his fingers tensing a little on Loki’s shoulder. “There is something _worse?_ ”

“You… might want to return to your seat before you hear that.”

Thor did so and stared at Loki, who refused to look at him, fiddling with his fingers.

“Are you going to tell me or not?” he asked eventually, tired of waiting.

Loki breathed deeply. “I did not want to tell you at first,” he said. “But I do not want to endanger you further because of that. What you said about going ahead and facing Fafnir alone—”

“It still stands,” Thor interrupted. “I am ready to face him. You may send the soldiers afterwards if you wish to, but if you fear for them, or for me to attack you, I am still willing to—”

“You did not.”

“What?”

“You did not attack me.”

Thor froze at the words, eyes widening and fists clenching and unclenching, all his brittle trust Loki might have regained shattering in an instant. “I—you—I did not— _then why have you told me that?!_ ” he yelled, standing up, both angered and hurt; Loki twitched at that. “Do you have any idea how _worried_ it made me?!”

“Yes,” Loki said, almost calmly, but not enough for Thor to notice his calm was forced. “Not worried enough to consider forgoing the fight.”

 _He has a point,_ Thor thought. But it mattered little. Of all the lies Loki could have told Thor, that one was the cruelest.

“You made me believe I tried to _hurt you,_ ” Thor said, his voice pained. “And for what?”

“I told you already, in a sense.” Loki averted his gaze. “I always have a backup plan. I thought it might… deter you from further fighting, in combination with the stories I told you earlier. I cloaked us from Heimdall’s sight, so he could not testify otherwise if you asked him. I hoped that you would get scared of accidentally harming me and step down.”

“Well, maybe in my heart I _knew_ I would never do it,” Thor scoffed. All the pity was gone, and anger was once again taking the lead, with deep pain by its side. Not that Thor wanted it to—he just couldn’t help but let the emotions spread all over him. “How _could_ you?”

Loki at first did not answer that. After a moment of silence, he only muttered. “I just… I was out of other ideas. Had I known any other way to keep you from fighting—”

“Then tell me, Loki… Were you ever _truly_ afraid of me, or was it all just an act?”

He didn’t know which answer he’s rather hear.

“I was,” Loki said after a minute, keeping his head and voice down. “Lately more and more often. But what does that matter? I told you about my fear already, and you believed it. And you still did not stop.”

Thor had heard enough.

“Well, at last I was being _honest,_ ” he said grimly. “And I think I would rather spend the night outside.” He glanced at the box with Mjolnir for one last time; it still tempted them, but he gritted his teeth and left the tent empty-handed, but with head full of dark clouds.

 

* * *

 

He slept—or rather tried to sleep—in one of the common tents, together with the soldiers. And even the little sleep he had was brutally interrupted at the crack of dawn.

Screams and overall commotion was what woke him up. At first he thought he was still dreaming, but when the noises were beginning to get louder, and somebody was shaking him and yelling at him to _get up and run for his life,_ he finally yielded to reality and, still a little groggy, emerged from the tent.

What he saw brought him around completely, but also rooted him in place.

The camp was _on fire._ The trees around were on the ground, burning, the soldiers were running in every direction possible, but almost all of them seemed to avoid one particular direction.

The one where the dragon stood.

He did not look like a typical one. He was much larger than any dragon Thor had ever seen, although his wings seemed too small for his body; he probably couldn’t fly. The dragon’s head still had something unsettlingly man-like about it, even though it was crowned with spikes, which ran down the creature’s neck and back, right to the tip of his long tail. It was covered in shiny emerald-green scales, and Thor could see no sign of damage on them whatsoever.

The dragon was a magnificent sight. Magnificent and absolutely _frightening._

“The best of Asgard!” the dragon bellowed, his voice loud and echoing and so very _unnatural,_ as if warped, like two voices of a man and a beast speaking at the same time. It seeped right into the very core of Thor’s soul and in an instant he understood why their soldiers’ spirits would break so quickly in Fafnir’s presence. “Run from the mighty and terrible Fafnir! Tell Odin the Unworthy I am coming for him and his city!” He let a stream of fire fly out of his maw into the air and then onto the ground, reaching a group of unfortunate Einherjar who were brave enough to try and charge at him.

Thor snapped out of the stupor, at once understanding _why_ even the bravest would flee from Fafnir, and realizing he had to do _something_ before that fear would grip him too, rendering him useless.

Thor looked around; there was hardly anything left of the camp and he could not even see where Loki’s tent used to be. He ran frantically around, looking for any sign of the box, and finally, unable to find it, he extended his hand, hoping that wherever the box was, Loki had lifted its lid.

Soon he heard the familiar metallic sound and moments later his fingers tightened on Mjolnir’s handle.

He was about to rush at the monster while he still could when a blast of white-hot energy came out of nowhere and hit Fafnir in his brow, just as he was to unleash another fiery breath upon the soldiers.

Thor looked behind him and saw Loki in his full armor, wielding Gungnir and breathing heavily.

“Glad to see you found your hammer,” he panted, seeing the hammer in Thor’s hand.

“Glad you were reasonable enough,” Thor replied, giving him a wide smile.

“Don’t mention it. We have got a bigger problem.” He motioned at Fafnir, who was looking straight at them both.

“I remember that spear,” he growled, slowly making his way towards the princes. The soldiers were almost all gone now, apart from a group of about a dozen. They tried to sneak up behind the dragon, but Fafnir noticed them somehow and quickly looked around, snatching two of them with his razor-sharp teeth.

Thor paled at that, his stomach turning.

Meanwhile the dragon spat what was left of the two soldiers onto the rest of the group, laughing.

“ _This_ is what becomes of the enemies of Fafnir the Great!” he roared, and the remaining soldiers recoiled. “I told you to run while you still could, you pathetic dolls!”

He reared back, apparently about to incinerate them, but another blast from Gungnir hit him in the jaw. Thor was satisfied to see it left a scorching mark.

“Oh, _you!_ ” The dragon moaned, again turning his head towards Thor and Loki. The soldiers took advantage of the distraction and dispersed, forfeiting any chance of trying to further attack Fafnir. “This should not belong to you! Who are you to wield that?!”

Loki stood, his frame tense, his hands on Gungnir, ready to fire another blast. Thor stood by his side, holding Mjolnir fast.

“I am Loki, the second-born son of Odin All-Father!” Loki exclaimed, probably with more confidence than he really had. “And this is Thor, my brother! You shall go no further! Today we shall vanquish you once and for all!”

“Aaah, of course.” Fafnir narrowed his bright yellow eyes and sneered, “Sons of the Unworthy. Splendid. Once I arrive in Asgard, I shall present your charred bones to that poor excuse of a king.”

If Loki had any backup plan that did not involve soldiers, it was all lost the moment Fafnir said that.

Thor charged at the dragon, screaming and holding his hammer high. He didn’t even think much of what he was going to do next; he could feel anger rushing through his veins and for once he did not resist it, instead letting him to take over as fast as he could.

Before he even realized it, he was in the air, high above Fafnir, who looked at him, slightly puzzled—but the dragon had little time to think as Thor descended onto his back, cracking some of his scales.

Fafnir let out a roar of pain, standing on his hind legs, but Thor caught onto one of the dragon’s spikes and held tight, bashing another spike with his hammer and almost breaking it off.

“You annoying little _pest!_ ” Fafnir spat, thrashing around and trying to get Thor off his back. “You will pay for this, oh yes, _you will!_ ”

Hoping that Loki would be smart enough to stay out of this, and feeling fear and rage battling for control inside him, Thor landed another blow on the dragon’s scales; one fell away and he stomped at the raw wound.

 _Focus on it. Let him anger you. Do not fear him. Let the rage win._ Let it in.

Another pained roar. “You— _I shall end you!_ You will _burn!_ ”

“You heard my brother, beast!” He said to Fafnir, managing to knock a spike away with Mjolnir. “You shall go _no further!_ ”

“I will go wherever I please, kill whoever I please!” Fafnir responded, flailing wildly and damaging everything within his reach, willingly or not. “I will set that accursed city of yours ablaze! I will make your people slaughter each other! I will watch you all die— _and the Unworthy will watch as well!_ I shall kill him last! There shall be no kingdom if I cannot be its king!”

“You—do not—sound—impressive—at—all!” Thor kept hitting the scales; holding on to one of the spikes to stay onto Fafnir’s back. The edges of his vision were going red already. This time, however, Thor did not mind, hoping that his rage would overwhelm him quickly. Fafnir, fortunately, was only contributing to it as he kept spitting more threats.

“I will kill you all!” Fafnir roared. “I shall slay every single one of you Asgardian wretches, I shall tear you two apart!”

He listened, taking it all to heart and swinging his hammer, knocking off scales and spikes, agitating him further. The color before his eyes was turning deeper and deeper.

“I will feast upon your corpses and spit in Odin’s face with your blood!” Fafnir paused to spit a fountain of fire into the air. “I shall find his wretched wife and crush her under my foot!”

 _Just a little more,_ Thor thought, hitting the dragon harder, his thought strangely muted in his head; the berserker rage was almost there. _Just keep talking like that, you abominable reptile—_

“And when I finally lay waste to that accursed kingdom,” Fafnir continued, “I shall rip him limb from limb, until he begs for mercy he shall never receive! And when he lays broken and bleeding beneath me, I shall devour what’s left of him!”

And the world turned the color of blood.

 

* * *

 

Loki, of course, had absolutely _no intention_ of staying out of this. The moment Fafnir had appeared suddenly and started wreaking havoc in the camp, he knew that all his plans were lost—as annoying it would be to admit that they involved what he’d once called one of the dumbest ideas ever, with the soldiers going first and Thor only joining when it would have been clear they would not have defeated the dragon without his help—but he was not going to _run_ again. He had been too ashamed of the last time to do it again. And he couldn’t possibly leave his idiot of a brother like that.

When Thor mounted the dragon, Loki stayed on the ground, dancing around the battlefield and trying not to get trampled or burned by the flailing Fafnir. Whenever he could, he shot more energy blasts from Gungnir at the dragon, scorching his belly, limbs and sides, while at the same time trying to avoid hitting Thor—which was proving to me more and more difficult, as the dragon, still spewing threats and fire, was thrashing more violently with every second Thor was on his back.

All of the sudden, the sky darkened and strong wind began to blow; he heard Thor scream—a savage, furious noise—and in the blink of an eye he saw him raise Mjolnir—and then lighting struck the hammer, which then drove one of the spikes into the creature’s back.

The roar that came out of Fafnir’s mouth was deafening. Loki backed away when Fafnir stood almost upright, spreading out his wings as the current ran through him. Then, he fell motionless onto the ground.

For a brief moment Loki thought it was over, but then the dragon slowly rose up—Loki spotted Thor still holding onto the dragon’s spike—and groaned, “Oh, no, no, _this_ is not how it ends, princeling!”

He started beating his wings—and took off into the sky, a little clumsily, as if he was not used to it, but managed to fly nevertheless. Thor fell from his back, but immediately whirled his hammer, pursuing Fafnir.

Loki tried to take aim, but Thor and the dragon were moving too fast and flying too high. He could only watch as fire and lighting blazed across the sky, and hope that only one of them would hit its target. He had little doubt that Thor had been already overwhelmed by the berserker rage—it had not been the first time he heard him scream like that; it took him remarkably less time than usual, but then Fafnir was not a usual foe. That and Loki could bet Thor had not fought the urge to destroy this time.

Rain began to fall and Loki could hardly see the two battling figures; only the silhouette of the dragon was now visible, Thor being less than a silver-red dot in the sky, sometimes only flashing where the lighting bent to hit Fafnir. They battled for what seemed to be an eternity, both resilient and stubborn—until a great light filled the sky, an explosion of blinding brightness and force which sent Loki flying back from where he stood, sweeping his helmet off his head and making him drop Gungnir, accompanied by a wave of noise so loud he felt it in his bones.

When Loki found Gungnir and gathered himself from the ground, he saw Fafnir’s great form _falling._

Unsure whether the dragon would land, he ran to the side, and it turned out it was a good move—Fafnir crashed to the ground, almost where Loki had been standing seconds earlier.

Loki stared at it, breathing heavily. The dragon wasn’t moving. Almost half of his scales and spikes gone, and what was left was blackened and scorched. His limbs were contorted, his wings sported holes in them, one of his eyes wide open and dull, while the other was no longer there.

Fafnir was dead.

Loki was about to sigh in relief when he heard a _thud_ behind him. He turned around to see Thor, bloodied and hunched, standing with his back to his brother. From what Loki could see, his armor and cape were singed in places, but overall, he looked uninjured.

Loki tensed. One problem was gone. Now he had to deal with the next.

He hadn’t lied to Thor when had said he was becoming increasingly more afraid of him. And now, after Thor’s most tremendous display of power he had ever witnessed, Loki was more anxious than ever before.

As if he was approaching a wild beast, he made a careful step forward.

“Thor?”

At first Thor did not respond in any way. Loki thought that maybe he hadn’t heard, but then Thor slowly turned around.

His eyes were ablaze.

Loki gripped Gungnir more tightly. “Thor, it’s me. It is time to stop. Fafnir is dead. It is over.”

Thor huffed, but otherwise did not react. Loki tried again.

“It’s me, your brother. Stop this, Thor. There is no need—”

He barely had the time to raise his hands and shield himself with Gungnir when Thor lashed out at him with a wild yell. Mjolnir hit the spear; Loki squinted as sparks flew in his face.

_Oh Norns. Oh Norns, it cannot be—_

Thor struck again. Loki blocked the blow. Another strike. Another block. Strike. Block. Strike. Block.

Loki looked for any opening, for a chance to blast Thor with Gungnir—not lethally, just to give him a pause and stop him from backing Loki into a corner—but Thor’s attacks were becoming more fierce, and the fire in his eyes grew more intense with every strike Loki deflected.

But why was it happening? Why _now,_ of all times—when no one was even here to help? Had the battle with Fafnir been too short for the rage to wear off? Was the rage the dragon had instilled in him too intense to quench? Had Thor just passed the point of no return, as Loki had feared he would one day? Or—

 _Or is this my fault?_ Loki thought, terrified. It could be that his lies had broken whatever bond they had used to have, making Loki no more important than any other man on the battlefield—or even worse, an object of hatred.

The thought threw him off balance and he paid for it immediately; his feet slipped on the wet ground and he did not raise the spear high enough in time to block the next strike.

Mjolnir hit him square in the chest, knocking the breath out of him and sending him flying backwards. He hit a tree trunk and slid down, his head spinning, and he realized he had lost Gungnir, but there was no time to search for it—Thor was already closing on him, the look on his face ferocious and merciless.

Struggling to get to his feet, Loki raised his hands and quickly shot a blast of raw magic at Thor—but Thor dodged it and threw his hammer at Loki, who quickly jumped to the side. Mjolnir hit the tree instead, breaking the trunk in half; the tree’s crown fell to the ground, almost crushing Loki.

“Brother, I’m sorry!” Loki cried out in desperation as he reached for more energy to strike again; Thor forgot about the hammer and went straight for him. “I’m sorry if I hurt you, I never wanted this, I never wanted to—”

He ducked, avoiding getting punched in the face. Loki threw his hands forwards, sending another magical missile into Thor’s chest, managing to push him a few paces back—then he saw Gungnir glimmering on the ground in the distance behind him.

The launched forwards, building up another charge in his fingers just in case, but as he was trying to run past Thor, a strong hand gripped his right arm and pulled him back. Loki readied the spell and was about to blast his brother away when Thor suddenly _squeezed._

Loki screamed as he felt the bone in his arm break, magic escaping his fingers. The pain didn’t manage to subside when Thor’s other hand hit him in the chest, and then in the jaw, and then in the side of his head. His knees buckled, the only thing stopping his from slumping to the ground being Thor’s hand still clutching his broken arm, sending waves of pain through the damaged limb.

“Thor, p-please,” Loki slurred, spitting blood and raising his head, hoping to see any kind of change in Thor’s eyes, and to his horror finding only the same burning ferocity as before. “Stop it, it’s over, please, s-stop it—”

Thor interrupted him with a kick in the face. Loki fell on the ground, stunned, the pain his arm the only thing keeping him conscious. He only managed to blink before Thor was suddenly on top of him, his hands squeezing Loki’s throat.

“N-no—” Loki tried to claw at Thor’s fingers with his good hand, to no avail. “Brother, no—”

He could no longer speak as he felt his breath being choked out of him. He tried summoning more magic, but only managed to produce harmless sparks, which did nothing to deter Thor.

_Thor, don’t, stop it—please, don’t do it, come back—you—you are killing me—brother, please—_

He thrashed underneath Thor’s weight, trying to throw him off, but it was all for naught; soon what was left of his strength was waning and his vision began to go dark.

 _Norns, brother—please—_ please—

As his senses were failing, a thought came to him. Maybe that was the solution. Maybe killing his brother would snap Thor out of his rage and give him a reminder why he should fight it. Maybe it would end it for good, just like in those stories of old.

Maybe Loki just had to die for the berserker in Thor to die as well.

But Loki did not want to. He did not want to sacrifice his life for something that might not work; he did not want to leave Thor alone in case something went wrong. And he just simply _did not want to die_ —and not at Thor’s hand. Not if he unwittingly made it happen. He did not want the last memory of his life to be that. He did not want _Thor’s last memory of him_ to be that.

Then suddenly, one of the hands let go. For a brief moment Loki thought it a good sign, hoping it meant Thor’s anger was wearing off, but then his other hand pressed on harder and Mjolnir flew into Thor’s open palm, crushing Loki’s hopes in an instant.

Darkness closed in on Loki before he could see Mjolnir fall.

 

* * *

 

The hammer was already in motion when Thor came to his senses.

But it did not come down where he had previously meant for it to. Instead, Mjolnir struck the ground, merely an inch away from Loki’s head.

 _No—Loki—_ Loki—

Thor stared, unable to move or speak, breathing heavily and taking in the horror of what had just happened.

_I did not—I could not—he—_

It took him a moment to realize that his hand was still on Loki’s throat.

“Norns—!” He let go quickly as if Loki’s skin burned him. “Loki—Loki, wake up!” He shook Loki by the shoulders. “Brother, _please!_ Loki! _Loki!_ ”

Loki remained unresponsive.

_I couldn’t have—not him—I promised—please, not him—_

Thor clutched his head, shaking all over. He stood up, turning away from Loki.

“Norns, what have I done?” He whispered. “How could I—how—not him, Norns, _not him—_ ”

Thor fell to his knees, tears falling from his eyes; he hid his face in his hands, sobs racking his entire body. He curled up on himself, his forehead almost touching the ground. He rocked back and forth as mocking voices suddenly spoke in his head.

_Belgir Bjarkison, slew his father._

_Valtyr Unnarson, slew his friend._

_Thor Odinson, slew his brother._

He raised his head and arched backwards, letting out an anguished howl at the sky to drown them out. The rain intensified, mingling with his tears. His gaze suddenly fell upon Fafnir’s corpse.

“It is all your fault, monster!” Thor shouted. “Had you not returned, had you not forced us to act, he would still be alive!” He almost hoped Fafnir would come alive, only so he could kill him again. He wanted to come up to the dead dragon and tear off his head, to rip him apart with his bare hands until only bloodied shreds would be left.

But as he looked down at those hands, the very same hands that had killed Loki, the rage died in his heart, swept away by the returning wave of sorrow and guilt.

 _How can I go back now?_ Thor thought. How could he face his Father and Mother, how could he tell them that he killed their son? That he killed his own brother?

He could lie to them. He could say it was Fafnir who killed Loki, and that he avenged him by slaying the beast.

Except that he _could not_ tell them that. They deserved to know. And Loki, despite all his recent and past lies, deserved better than to have his memory mired in cowardly falsehoods.

He knew he would not get punished for that; he would not be held accountable for whatever he did while in berserker rage. It actually only made things worse.

_How can such a thing go unpunished? How can his death remain unpaid for?_

Thor looked back slowly. Loki’s body was still there, unmoving and lifeless, and Mjolnir was still in place near his head.

“How can you still think me worthy?” Thor spat at the hammer as if it could respond to his complaints. “How could you have _ever_ thought me worthy, if I was capable of—of _that?_ ”

He stayed like that for a while, half-hoping it would turn out to be another trick. He watched, waiting for Loki to rise, or to disappear and reappear somewhere close, alive and well, boasting about the masterful illusion he had cast. He stared and stared, but nothing changed.

_He is not coming back. But I am. I have to. I have to live with it._

_I have to take him home._

He rose only to walk up to Loki and crouch beside him. He reached out slowly and hesitated, his hand hovering over Loki’s head.

 _Forgive me,_ he wanted to say, but the words were stuck in his throat. He would not receive forgiveness anyway. Loki could not even hear him anymore.

He withdrew his hand, sighing heavily. He waited for another moment, for another miracle that would not happen, and finally, carefully as if he might do him some further harm, he slid his arms under Loki’s back and legs.

And then Loki drew in a breath.

Shocked, Thor drew back as Loki gasped for breath and coughed, writhing on the ground. His good hand flew up to his throat, as if trying to remove the crushing fingers that were no longer there.

“Loki—Loki, it’s me!” Thor leaned over him, both elated and worried, trying to calm Loki down, but that turned out to be a bad idea. As soon as Loki recognized him, his eyes grew wide with panic; he let out a stifled cry and tried to push Thor with his hand, shooting feeble wisps of green light from his fingers.

Thor, to his dismay, understood the reaction momentarily and drew back. Loki, still unable to catch his breath, tried to sit up, wincing as he attempted to move his broken right arm.

“Loki, I can help you—” Thor offered, but Loki looked at him with such terror in his eyes it made him fall silent on the spot. Loki crawled backward until he hit a nearby tree, interchangeably wheezing and coughing, his hand massaging his bruised neck, his eyes still trained on Thor, his body trembling.

Finally he seemed to calm down at least a little. His eyes were still wide, but his posture relaxed a bit.

“Th—“ he started, but a violent cough cut him off. “Th—Tho—” He could not get the words out.

“Loki, it’s me,” Thor repeated as calmly as he could, taking a step in Loki’s direction. His heart sank when Loki recoiled at that. “I am not going to hurt you, brother.” He slowly raised his hands. “I am back. It is over. I—I will not come closer if you do not want me to.”

Loki stared at him for a moment, then waved his good hand in the air. Shining golden runes, although a bit blurry, appeared in the air, spelling a question.

_Rage over?_

“Yes,” Thor replied. “And Fafnir is dead. There is nothing more to fear.”

Another wave of a hand. _Good to hear._

Loki tried to get up, with visible difficulty. In the blink of an eye, Thor was near him, but Loki shrank back against the tree.

“Oh—I am sorry, I only want to help—”

_I know. Cannot help it. Sorry._

“ _You_ should not be sorry about that. It was all my fault—”

Loki shook his head. _Not just yours._

“No.” Thor frowned. “You are not to blame for almost getting yourself killed at my hand—”

A moment of hesitation. _Lied to you. Angered you. My fault as well._

“You could not have known—”

_Could have predicted it._

“Brother, really,” Thor huffed. “Insist on that as much as you want, it was not your fault.”

Loki rolled his eyes. _Argue later. Time to go home._

He tried to stand again, but had to accept Thor’s help with obvious reluctance.

 _Flight?_ Loki asked, glancing at Mjolnir.

Thor twitched, remembering how close he had been to smashing Loki’s head with it. “I would rather… not touch it right now.”

_Not like you will harm me with it now._

“It is still a bad idea. Your arm—”

_Had worse. Do not want to walk. Outpost far away._

“Are you sure?”

_Just do not let me go._

The words seemed weird, as Loki was clearly uncomfortable near Thor; he was still shivering and kept avoiding his brother’s eyes. But Thor quickly weighed in the options and decided that in the end a quick flight to the nearest outpost could indeed be a better option than a few-hours-long walk, given Loki’s condition.

“Very well, brother.” Thor reached out; he almost expected the hammer not to respond, but it listened to his master and flew into his hand. “I shall not let you go.”

 

* * *

 

There were things Thor was not used to. One of them was seeing his Father smile after greeting his firstborn returning from battle.

And yet it happened. It was actually the third time Thor witnessed it and it still filled him with a pleasant sense of surprise.

“I think it may be safe to assume your berserker problem is solved,” Odin said, patting Thor on the shoulder. “Three times in a row. Three intense battles. No outbursts. Oh son… I am so glad it’s over.”

“So am I, Father,” Thor said, although his smile was a little forced. He knew what he owed this to, and still regretted it had happened, despite the obvious bright side. Although it still could have been much, much worse.

“What do you said to a little celebration?” Odin suggested, going back to his writing desk. “Not perhaps today evening, you probably want to rest, but how about having a feast tomorrow?”

“I—well, how could I say no to that?” Thor replied. “It has been a while since we had a proper feast.”

The one four weeks earlier, at which they had celebrated Fafnir’s defeat and the All-Father’s subsequent awakening, had been a rather subdued one. People were not really in the mood for celebration when the guest of honor, the vanquisher of the dragon himself, had only appeared for a while and then withdrawn to his chambers. Thor had not felt like celebrating at all back then. The defeat of the dragon still was a sour victory for him, considering what had almost happened next.

People did not know. The matter remained a secret between the members of the royal family only. Of course, Frigga and Odin had been horrified when they first heard of it, but quickly calmed down and said that fortunately, things had not gone too far.

And it had been Loki who suggested that they could never go that far again. It was him who said that the shock of _almost_ killing him could have been enough to rid Thor of his berserker curse. And a week later, when Nidavellir called for help with a group of defectors, his suspicions were confirmed.

A battle ended with the Asgardians’ victory, and without Thor going into the berserker rage even once.

“Tomorrow it is, then,” Odin said, taking a seat behind the desk. “You may go, Thor. We shall talk more later. Get your rest. Tomorrow is going to be a busy day.”

“I shall. Good night, Father.” Thor bowed, grinning from ear to ear, and left the study. However, he did not go straight to his rooms.

Minutes later he was standing in front of Loki’s door. He knocked and, having received a permission, walked in.

Loki was sitting on his bed with a book, just like all those weeks ago when he had persuaded Thor that trying mind control magic was a good idea. He was spending more time here now than ever, rarely appearing in the court or going outside his chambers. He blamed it on still feeling unwell, but Thor knew better. Some people were still speaking ill of him, regarding his short-lived reign, about how he had been unable to face Fafnir and had been forced to use his berserker brother. Odin had told him not to mind those, as he had fared quite well and ran the kingdom just fine before the crisis in the form of the dragon appeared, and Thor tried to curb those voices and kept telling everyone who was willing to hear that Loki faced Fafnir bravely and did everything in his power to stop him, but apparently they weren’t going to weed out all the unfavorable opinions too soon.

Although, to Loki’s credit, he still hadn’t fully recovered. While the bruises on his throat were long gone, his voice was back to normal, and his broken arm had been mended—although it still hurt him a bit when he tried to move it quickly or to command too much magic with it—there were some invisible wounds that refused to heal so quickly. Like how Loki still twitched nervously when Thor tried to touch him.

“How was the battle?” he asked, looking up from the book and giving Thor a smile.

Despite how adamant he was about Thor no longer being a berserker, he kept refusing to go to battle with him. He has said that Thor no longer needed him to keep him in check, that he would only get in Thor’s way and be of no help. None of which, Thor could bet, was a proper reason.

“Quite short,” Thor admitted, sitting next to his brother, and his heart stung a little when he noticed Loki stiffen. “We—um—we won. Those raiders never stood a chance.”

“Nothing else to add?”

“Nothing at all.”

“Well…” Loki closed the book. “It was the third one, was it not?”

“You are right.”

“Then I guess this really is over.”

“Father said the same thing. He suggested a feast to celebrate it.”

“A feast?” Loki raised his brows. “Again? Not even a moment to catch your breath, then?”

“Not today. Tomorrow evening. And the previous feast was little fun, in my opinion.”

“Oh. Now that’s better.” He paused. “It is… a good occasion. This is truly something to celebrate. I hope you will have a great time.”

There was a certain sadness in his voice, and Thor had to resist the urge to put a hand on his neck.

“You are not coming, brother?” he asked.

Loki shrugged. “I see no point in coming. It’s your feast, not mine.”

“This should be your feast too, brother. After all, in a sense, if it had not been for you, I still would be a berserker.”

Loki laughed dryly. “Getting almost killed is hardly a reason to celebrate, Thor.”

“But living is.”

“Hm.” Loki smirked. “Maybe. But I still do not feel like coming—”

“I still want you around, Loki.”

Loki tilted his head, puzzled. “I did not say—”

“But you feel like that. And do not lie to me, not again.”

Loki stared at him for a while, then lowered his eyes and sighed. “But I _am_ no longer necessary. You can go and fight on your own, and you do not have to worry about me not reaching you in time. Do not get me wrong—” he looked up and raised a hand in an apologetic gesture “—I _am_ happy for you. I _am_ glad you are no longer a berserker. But that makes me _useless._ ” His voice quivered briefly, but he quickly got it under control. “You are free. You no longer need me by your side. So I think… I should not come. If it shall be a celebration of your newfound freedom, it would be rather inappropriate of me to—”

“I insist that you come,” Thor cut in. “And you are not useless. Do you really think stopping me was your only talent? You have showcased more during all those years—”

“But they shall no longer matter. This is a kingdom of warriors, not diplomats or tricksters. It is your world now, Thor.”

“But it takes diplomacy to run this kingdom properly. And life would be dull without tricks.” He grinned at him.

Loki grinned back. “Yes… I guess it would be.”

“But believe me, brother, when I say this: you are _not_ useless. Our people did not praise you for simply not being me—”

“While now they will deride me for it—”

“No, Loki. You are gifted in many ways, and you let it show many, many times. I shall not let anyone disrespect you or your gifts now that I am cured. If any tries, I—I shall introduce them to Mjolnir.”

Loki snickered. “Not the best way of handling that, perhaps.”

“Then I will think of a better one someday. But trust me on this Loki. You are a _gift_ to this city. You have proved it many times, not just by stopping me from wreaking havoc. And I will make sure our people remember that.”

Loki was visibly teary-eyed, although he was trying to keep his expression more or less neutral. “I—I thank you, brother. I appreciate that.”

“You are welcome. And know that even though I can now go wherever I please without you, it does not mean I _want_ to.”

“But surely you—”

“Brother—I am not tired of your company. And if it is _you_ who does not want _my_ company, just say it.”

Loki blinked. “Oh. I—” He cleared his throat. “That was—I was not trying to imply it.”

“But you _have_ been avoiding me. And I cannot blame you for doing so. But please, do not tell me more lies. If you want to be alone—if you want _me_ to give you some space, just tell me.”

“Thor…” Loki shook his head. “It’s not why I do not want to come, but… It is true that I find your company… slightly uncomfortable at times, but—I know it should not be so. I know you will not harm me anymore, I know I am not being rational and I try to fight it. Just like you tried to fight the berserker rage at times, I guess.”

“Do not be sorry. Not about such a thing. And let me help you overcome it.” Thor extended his hand. “I do not really know of how much help it will be, but please, brother, come to the feast tomorrow. We shall celebrate together. It is not only me who gained his freedom; you gained yours as well. After all, you do not have to supervise me at the time. Now we can be as we should be—not a berserker and his handler, but just brothers. Companions. Friends.”

Loki hesitated, then slowly reached out and grasped Thor’s hand, giving him a squeeze.

“That sounds… quite enjoyable,” he admitted.

“So, are you coming?”

Loki nodded. “I cannot promise I will stay for the whole feast… but yes, you may count on me making an appearance.”

Thor beamed at him. “You will see, it shall be an unforgettable night. We shall eat and drink and sing till dawn!”

Loki laughed, heartily this time. “Thor, I thought you could control yourself now?”

Thor laughed, too. “Right. I shall limit the _singing_ to minimum.”

**Author's Note:**

> For those who are perhaps wondering about the plans Odin has for Loki: they’re pretty much the “becoming the King of Jotunheim and bringing peace” stuff.
> 
> I wondered if I could somehow use Loki’s heritage to a bigger extent—the drama potential was strong with this one—but with the plot I eventually devised, I just couldn’t fit it anywhere without messing things up (as in, even more than I messed them up already) and adding even more things to resolve and complicate the story. So yeah.
> 
> Also, on the worthiness thing: my guess is that in this AU Thor knew more about humility, being the less favoured son and stuff, and also he somehow tried to make up for everything he might do when he went berserk by trying to be as nice to people as possible. Emphasis on “trying.”


End file.
